OneWinged Angels
by FenixPhoenix
Summary: Jenova's control over Sephiroth broke with his death. Now, he is sent back to protect Tifa and save the planet from the entity that threatens it. The problem: how to convince her of his good intentions? ::TifaxSephiroth:: Post AC. Ch. 35 is up!
1. Significance

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any of its characters. I am just burrowing them for a while.

**Summary: **Jenova's control over Sephiroth broke with his death. Now, he is sent back to protect Tifa and save the planet from the entity that threatens it. The problem: how to convince her of his good intentions? ::TifaxSephiroth:: R&R!

**Other pairings and characters appearing**: CloudxAerith, CidxShera, Yuffie, Barret, Vincent, Reeve, Genesis.

**Author's notes: **Well, this is my fourth FFVII fic, but my first with this pair. I hope you enjoy it and please do not forget to **review**. Also, if not enough people read this I may not continue (even if I have the entire plot sketched out). Why? Because a story void of readers has no purpose, I suppose. ~Enjoy!

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**Story's Key: **

"Normal" – Talking

_Italics- Thinking _

_*Italics* - Flashback_

'Important'- emphasis

"CAPITALS"- Yelling

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"_What I have shown you is reality. What you remember…that is the illusion._"

_-Sephiroth (Final Fantasy VII)-_

"**One Winged Angels"**

By: FenixPhoenix

**Chapter 1: "Significance"**

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**Sephiroth** **Crescent** opened his eyes lazily and immediately felt disoriented. He stared at the nothingness ahead, trying to decipher where he was and how he'd gotten there.

The pain –a constant companion of his- was gone. That was the first thing he noted, even if he was unsure as to the reason why he should be feeling pain in the first place.

He was also acutely aware that he should be worried, yet he wasn't. There was something new inside him. Or rather, it felt as though something he'd lost and forgotten had suddenly been returned to him. The General felt in complete 'control' of his mind. He felt his sight 'unobstructed' by something that had been there, bugging him. It was almost as if the blindfold he'd worn over his eyes had been finally discarded.

Vividly, an image of Cloud's sword slashing at him flashed inside his mind, sending only the reminiscence of pain dancing through his body.

"I'm… dead?" he murmured briskly, idly searching his body for a wound that was not there. It was strange, however, how his body felt. There was no weight, no gravity to pull him to the ground. In fact, he was floating aimlessly –hovering just above what seemed like liquid lifestream. And he felt truly at peace. It had been so long since he'd last felt this safe…

Slowly, the haze inside him -that which had impeded his mind from functioning properly- began to drift away. Memories of a distant past began to play, not inside him, but around him. Images of the people of who've shared his life swirled in the air, dancing before his eyes like mocking ghosts.

Angeal was polishing his sword, a thoughtful look on his face of complete tranquility. Genesis was perched on a tree's branch, LOVELESS held between his fingers as his mako eyes scanned the pages with avid interest. Zack was smiling his never-wavering smile as he approached him, sword resting languidly on his shoulder. Cloud was nervously adjusting his helmet just as they were about to reach Nibelheim…

Suddenly, the memories switched to less peaceful ones. These new memories were slowly peeling his life away -breaking it, as he watch in impotence a recount of what had happened when his mind had snap.

He saw Angeal's white wing marred with blood. He saw Genesis degrading form flying away, a look of sadness in his eyes. He saw Zack preparing to fight him, his eyes concerned and filled with distress. He saw Cloud moving towards him, seemingly oblivious to the sword embedded on his stomach, as in his eyes flashed a feral madness that awed him.

And then he saw her.

The body of that woman –his guide to the mako reactor- was rolling down the stairs, painting the surface of the ground red with her blood. Sephiroth watched almost with disgust his former self just walking away from her, not caring about what he'd done –how he'd broken her. He knew that his mind had entertained only one thought that was far away from guilt during that particular moment and the time that followed.

This realization brought the last image to be showcased within the nothingness ahead, dissipating the other ghosts with its power. Jenova. The entity flashed strongly all around him, her steely figure smiling amusingly -mockingly at him.

And Sephiroth could take it no more! At last, he understood what happened. The realization that he had been played –controlled so easily, left him shaking with a rage he'd never felt before. The power of it was frightening, as heat spread through every part inside him, biting at his mind and heart with wild fury.

He'd been under her control for so long. He'd done things in accordance to 'her' will, stripped of his freedom to decide and played like the puppet he'd thought Cloud had been! It was perturbing and intolerable!

How had he, the great Sephiroth Crescent, been bested so easily? How had he allowed her to whisper commands in her ear and believe them to be his own?

A chuckle made the images disappear and his concentration –his temporal self-loathing- vanished to be replaced by careful curiosity. His green-blue eyes swept the area around him, until they settled on a stranger that was standing some meters away from him.

It was a woman with long, straight hair that glinted gold with an eerie light that seemed to emanate from her very skin. Her face was pale and her eyes swirled from color to color. She looked battle-ready. A gold and silver armor protected her lean body, and successfully hid her complexion entirely from observation. In one hand, she held a silver shield that was as big as half-her body. In the other, she held a rod with a tip that resembled an opened-winged angel in an abstract sort-of way.

"Who are you?" he asked when his inspection was over. As strange as it was, the woman made him feel little and yet, he was not frightened at all. In fact, if anything, he was more intrigued.

"Welcome, Sephiroth. Son of Jenova and humankind. One-winged angel," she spoke calmly, soothingly. Her tone made him think of a gentle river passing by. "I am Minerva, the Goddess of Gaia, Guardian of the lifestream."

He watched, almost spellbound, as the glowing liquid below them rose. In seconds, a liquid planet was formed between them. It was his planet. The planet he had almost destroyed.

Gaia.

"Do you know, Sephiroth, what the significance of a one-winged angel is?" she asked before he could say something else, her eyes switching from soothing blue to lively green.

Sephiroth pondered about that for a while, but he could not come up with a satisfactory answer. Heck, he was still trying to decide if the creature before him was really a Goddess. So he settled by tilting his head slightly to one side, silently allowing her to continue.

A corner of Minerva's lips quirked upward, "An angel needs two wings to fly. An angel with one wing is, therefore, incomplete on his own. To fly, he requires another angel that would complete him –someone that would make him whole. Think of it as a puzzle, there is only one person in the entire universe, who possesses the other wing that can match his. Only that one particular wing would enable him to fly."

She gave a step towards him and Sephiroth felt her eyes studying him before she broke the silence again. "Two winged-angels are independent creatures. One-winged angels, on the other hand, cannot remain alone. Or rather –they are not made to be alone," she finished.

"Even with one wing, I can still fly on my own," he pointed out stoically, folding his arms across his chest. For some reason, her words sent chills down his spine.

Minerva's eyebrows rose, "Do you, now?" She chuckled to herself. "I guess it would depend on your definition of flying, then."

Sephiroth's brows met in an uncertain frown. The definition of… flying? Surely, there was only one definition for such an action, wasn't there?

"Do you desire… revenge, Sephiroth?" She asked abruptly, her eyes now a crimson color that was slowly changing into bright gold, "Do you wish to attain… redemption?"

His interest peaked and, without hesitation, he answered, "Absolutely."

Minerva smiled, "Then, I will give you another chance. But it will not come free. For every action there is a consequence, for every favor a price."

"Name it," he said, fully conscious that there was nothing he could lose anymore. No. He was standing in the bottom of the pit with no way of falling even deeper. The only direction left was up.

"I will give you your life back and with it, two missions that will go hand-in-hand with your desire," she said. Slowly, the liquid forming the planet began to morph into the figure of a featureless woman. Minerva continued, "One mission is to destroy Jenova. The other, is to protect the 'planet's hope', for she will be key in ridding the planet of Jenova's threat once and for all."

Sephiroth gazed curiously at the watery figure. She looked familiar, yet he couldn't put a name to the body that was moving from side to side. He noticed that she was holding something that looked like a rag. As if to prove his musings right, she leaned forward and began cleaning, what he guessed to be, the surface of a table.

"Who is she?" he asked, feeling mesmerized by the way the figure moved with a grace she seemed unaware of.

"There is a girl who once jumped into the lifestream with the intention of saving a man whose insides were broken. The lifestream healed the man, but she needed no mending and should have died," Minerva explained, gazing at the woman with eyes the color of a cloudless sky. She moved towards the figure slowly and, leaning her shield on her leg, she touched the cheek of the liquid woman tenderly. "I moved towards her within the lifestream with the intention of robbing her life. Yet, as soon as I touched her, I knew she was special."

"Special?" he prompted when she remained quiet, her gaze transfixed on the figure of water almost…lovingly?

"Yes, special." She blinked, snapping off her stupor before she continued, "Her heart, you see, held power beyond that of any I had met. The strength within her was such, that instead of killing her, I gave her sufficient power to confront Jenova and sealed it in her heart." She turned to him, and Sephiroth could see the flame of hope and excitement burning in her now orange-shade eyes. "You, Sephiroth, shall give her the key to unlock the powers of her heart. Together, you and her -alongside some of the chosen I will send to your aid- will destroy Jenova and save Gaia in the process."

Sephiroth's attention switched back to the liquid figure. Again, that feeling of familiarity tugged at his heart. Where had he seen her before?

"Alright," he said, accepting the task and the challenge it posed. "Where will I find this woman?"

Minerva smiled ghostly, "Where do you often find angels?"

The General frowned, "In Heaven, I suppose."

The Goddess nodded once and he could again read amusement all over her face, "Indeed. Search then for the 'Heaven' of Edge. In there you shall find the 'locked heart'."

Before he could ask for a less vague explanation, he suddenly found himself falling. He saw Minerva looking down at him until her face disappeared amidst the darkness to become one of the many blinking stars.

When he opened his eyes to solid reality, it was to face none other than Cloud Strife. Automatically, he parried Cloud's sword as the blond ex-SOLDIER attacked him. Though he knew he didn't have time for this, he fought him –feeling part of his old self resurging as he did.

When he realized what was happening and how he was -like before- losing control, he decided best to retreat. It would not do for him to forget why he had return to this world after all.

Thus, spreading his black wing, he parried Cloud's sword for the last time and said –not to him, but to the presence of Jenova he felt nearby, "I will... never be a memory."

And with a smile -at feeling Jenova's open surprise- he left. He left the rookie soldier behind and the mistakes he'd made with him. Only one thing was in his mind. He needed to fulfill his mission. He needed to find 'Edge's Heaven' and protect the 'locked heart'.

**-o0o-**

**Sephiroth Crescent** settled in Edge barely three days after his resurrection. With the money he had saved on a bank account when he'd been working for SOLDIER–using an alias as a precaution- he'd bought a small apartment in the downtown district. Having done that, he proceeded in asking around -always wearing a concealing outfit that mainly consisted of a dark, long cloak and hood- for a place that could be known unofficially as the 'Heaven of Edge'.

Though he had initially believed his search would prove difficult, it was with welcomed surprise he found that the only establishment every citizen referred to as the 'Heaven' of Edge, was in fact a tavern.

"What's the name of the tavern?" he asked a man in his mid-thirties who had given him the richest and most reliable information so far.

The man smirked and said mockingly, "I jus' don't understand the question, sir."

Sephiroth glared coldly from under his hood, despite knowing that the man wouldn't be able to see it. Stoically, he took out a handful of gils and offered them to the shady man leaning on the wall in front of him. He had half-a-mind to just whip his sword out and wipe the smirk of his informer, but he knew better than to give in to the reminiscence of impulses Jenova's presence had left behind.

"Ah, I remember now," the man was quick to pocket the coins, "It's called Seventh Heaven."

Wow, he should have seen this coming.

"Where can I find the place and who runs it?" he asked.

The man smiled goofily at him, his tongue visible through the gaps. "My memory keeps failin', y'know."

The General cracked his neck in response. Yes. Even the great Sephiroth had his limits.

With a quick move, he tackled the man to the floor. Towering him, he allowed the imprudent cod to get a glimpse of a small knife he had unsheathed from where it had been hanging by his belt.

He tilted his head to one side when the man began squirming. Immediately, he brought his boot down on the man's chest with enough strength as to make him yelp, while still avoiding breaking his ribs in the process. At the same time, the action served to discourage the retreat the wide-eyed man had been planning.

"I-I remember now, s-sir!" he stammered, his eyes filled with fear.

"I am listening," Sephiroth replied smoothly, urging him to talk by applying a bit of pressure to his foot.

"The bar's on the main street," he said, "near where the damn dragon attacked, 'kay?"

The Dragon? Yes, he'd heard about the incident where Bahamut had attacked shortly after his arrival in Edge."Who runs it?" he asked, releasing a tiny bit of the pressure –an indication that he was satisfied with the former answer.

"Ah, it's a young lass," the man gulped and closed his eyes, almost as if in defeat. "Her name's Tifa…Tifa Lockhart!"

Sephiroth's eyebrows arched at this. He really hadn't seen 'this' coming. But had he frankly expected things to go smoothly? Without a word, he turned on his heels and walked away, melting into the darkness ahead and leaving the petrified man behind.

Truth was, for a second there, he had expected things to go smoothly.

As he marched briskly through the dark streets, he felt himself growing grimmer. So what if this new information posed a problem? He would just have to make do with the situation. This was certainly not his first difficult mission and would most probably not be his last.

Tifa Lockhart, lone owner and barmaid of his targeted bar…how _very _troublesome.

To his slight annoyance, his conscience chose that moment to remind him of 'who' he would have to deal with. Tifa was, after all, not only a former member of Avalanche but also Cloud Strife's childhood sweetheart. Though these were not the only things that were bound to cause him trouble, they were of particular significance.

Deciding he had enough for the night, Sephiroth made his way back to his apartment. Once he closed the door behind him, he took off his cloak and almost crashed on his comfy couch, feeling the stress of his new situation settling in the back of his neck.

Automatically, he began massaging the balling nerves as he mulled over the information he had aptly gathered. What if this bar was not the heaven he had been asked to find?

He smirked sardonically at the lack of conviction he felt towards his baseless assumption, and closed his eyes. The image of the planet morphing into a woman flashed beneath his eyelids. He realized just then why the woman silhouetted in the lifestream had seemed so familiar.

Indeed, there was no mistake about it. The woman Minerva had sent him to protect was Tifa Lockhart.

He sighed. Well, had he paid closer attention he would have realized that the Goddess had practically spelled her name out! Even with the vast problems piling in his mind, the ex-SOLDIER couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips as he recalled their conversation.

Minerva had carefully chosen certain words to relay her message. Words that were spoken in riddles, but which, in themselves, were the straight answer he'd sought.

The locked heart found in heaven.

Tifa Lockhart found in Seventh Heaven.

He chuckled softly. Strangely enough, far from feeling stupid, the powerful male felt excited. The fact that he had missed something as obvious as this made the game all the more attractive.

So with something between amusement and curiosity, he further wondered if it was pure irony that Tifa's name had fitted Minerva's description of her so perfectly. He shook his head as the whole idea of just who the barmaid was finished sinking in his restless mind. Sephiroth bit back a curse at the amount of complications this provided.

_Oh, well_, a confident voice inside his head stated, _how disastrous can this be?_

"Very disastrous," he muttered quite convinced, but then shrugged as he stood up and moved towards his bedroom. Disastrous or not he would think about it tomorrow.

**-o0o-**

During the week that followed, Sephiroth studied Tifa's bar attentively. He noted she opened at nine o'clock in the evening and closed at two-thirty in the morning. Likewise, he realized that she lived in the upper floor of the bar with two kids.

The first time he'd seen the kids, he had mused about who they were and how the fitted the picture of her current life. Were they hers or someone else's?

Upon further inspection, however, he had concluded they couldn't be Tifa's –at least not biologically speaking. First off, they didn't look in the least like her and, second, they were too old to be hers.

Still, not able to keep his curiosity in regards to this at bay, he proceeded to ask around. With carefully chosen questions asked to carefully chosen people, he learned that the girl –Marlene- was actually the daughter of Barret -which if he remembered correctly was the dark, big man who'd founded AVALANCHE. The boy –Denzel, on the other hand, was an orphan that had been taken in by Cloud and Tifa.

This information, nevertheless, led to further questions. The most important one being, where was Cloud? He wondered if his absence had to do with his resurrection and the fight that had ensured shortly thereafter. Perhaps the puppet had gone away with the intention of finding him and finally finishing what he'd started? After all, revenge was not something easily cast aside. But Sephiroth was not sure of this and so decided to find out.

With his interest now peaked, he patiently waited on the seventh night in an alley near Tifa's bar. When a man –who Sephiroth recognized as a regular client- stepped out of her bar swaying drunkenly from side to side, he silently approached him.

Drunken men were the easiest prey. In a matter of seconds he was extracting information that –perhaps in a more sober state- the man would not have been so avid to share. Apparently, Cloud had left Tifa long ago. He had broken her heart in the process, which had led him to inquire as to the reason for the breakup. The man had gone into a fit of bitter laughter at Sephiroth's choice of words. By what he'd understood from the slurred babbled that followed, it seemed that Cloud had never moved on from Aerith's death. The rookie had left Tifa, not because he could not make 'her' happy, but because 'he' could not be happy with her.

According to the customer, Tifa would have been happy only to have Cloud around –though Sephiroth was skeptical as to the truthfulness of this declaration.

"Still, 'tupid spiki-haired ass'd gone leavin' Tifa all alone with them kids. Ah… I hate'im!" the man drawled closing in on Sephiroth as if he was about to share a secret. "I wish someone woulda hit the shit outta that chocobo-haired 'tupid sonofabitch, y'know?"

Sephiroth smiled, "It's never too late."

The man laughed and raised the empty bottle he was still holding in a mocking cheer, "Damn right!"

The ex-SOLDIER left shortly thereafter, feeling his amusement building as he heard the man continuing to badmouth Cloud loudly. Why had he ever wished to destroy this planet and its delightful inhabitants again?

When Sephiroth had returned to his 'house', numerous –and more somber- thoughts were entertained by his mind. One of them was Tifa's presumed happiness at having Cloud around. Granted, he was not an expert on her –he barely even knew her- but still, the information he'd gathered about her did not add up. Every person had a different version of her, and Sephiroth wondered how many of her smiles where fake. How much of her presumed happiness did she actually feel…?

Shrugging, he decided it was time to finally move into action. Now that he knew Cloud would not be an obstacle, he could proceed with the next phase of his plan. From tomorrow onwards, he would visit her at her bar and study her with his own two eyes.

Yes. Sephiroth would meet Lockhart mask to face; his being the mask obviously. After all, it wouldn't do for him to simply stroll unannounced -and most definitely unwelcomed- into the bar of his former enemy, would it?

No. This was Tifa Lockhart he was talking about. He knew that when he stepped into her bar, he was going to be entering a minefield. If there was someone in the entire planet who hated him the most, it was definitely Tifa Lockhart. And could he blame her? After all, he'd probably hurt her the most out of all the mismatched group that conformed AVALANCHE–Cloud included.

He'd not only murdered her father, but he'd also tried to kill her –though he was now glad he'd been unsuccessful in that particular enterprise. Before that, he'd burned her home, watching stoically as the city went down in flames. Then -as if that had not been enough- he'd killed Aerith in cold blood. Not to mention that, he'd endangered Cloud and the rest of her friends.

And then there was that small detail of him summoning meteor and almost destroying the planet.

No. Sephiroth was pretty sure that he was not on Lockhart's favorite people's list. Still, he couldn't give up. If anything, this raised the challenge, and if there was something he enjoyed was engaging in a difficult mission.

He would tread carefully, of course -else he should step on a mine and blow off his chance at both revenge and redemption.

He smiled contentedly at the idea of paying her a visit personally. Yes. Tomorrow he would visit her and inspect–how did the men referred to it…? Ah, yes- her 'angelic' smile up close and personal. He would find the true significance of it.

And he would know if she lied –if she faked it. Perhaps even, he will learn the reason why.

**To be continued…**


	2. Alluring Unknown

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any of its characters. I am just burrowing them for a while.

**Author's notes: **Thank you so much for the reviews. I really appreciate them and, though I answered you all, I want to thank my **anonymous** reader (since I couldn't reply to him). All your reviews brought a smile to my face and ignited the determination to continue this. ~**Enjoy**!

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"_A ship in the harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are built for__._"

_-William Shedo-_

"**One Winged Angels"**

By: FenixPhoenix

**Chapter 2: "Alluring Unknown"**

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**Tifa Lockhart's **concentration faltered when the phone began to ring. She scowled at the caller's bad timing and -leaving the spoon with which she had been swirling the contents of the pot on the table- she lowered the flame of the stove.

"Denzel, watch over supper for me, okay?" she asked the boy who was leaning on his notebook, working on the math problems that composed his homework.

"Mmmm… 'kay," he mumbled as he bit his lip trying to solve a problem that seemed particularly difficult for him.

Tifa smiled at him, affectionately disheveling his cherry hair, before strolling down the hall and towards the room where she'd set the only phone of the upper-story. The phone stopped ringing when she was just about to step into the room, and she bit back a groan at not having made it in time.

Why, people could sure be impatient!

It was just as she was about to turn on her heels and go back to the kitchen, that Marlene's voice reached her. "This is Marlene speaking," she said sweetly, letting out a squeal of delight shortly after.

Tifa frowned and stepped inside, only to be greeted by Marlene's broad smile and beaming eyes as she listened to the voice in the other end of the line. She was soon bouncing up and down as laughter erupted past her lips.

Though she was happy for the girl, the martial artist couldn't help feeling apprehension tugging hard at her heart. There were only two people that would get that reaction out of Marlene. One was Barret –which she hoped with fervor was the one calling- and the other was… Cloud.

Stupid, miserable, guilt-ridden, heartbreaker and sweet Cloud…

"Yeah, we've been fine. Tifa is fine. Her cooking has gotten better… Guess what, though! I am the best of my class! The teacher said so herself today," Marlene announced proudly. Her fingers began twirling the cable of the phone as she listened to the voice. After a while, she said almost with a whimpering whisper, "Yes. I do like it here but… I still miss you a lot. I wanna be with 'you'…"

Tifa bit her lip at the pleading tone Marlene was using. Who was calling, though? She hoped against hope that it was not Cloud. _Everyone but him…please._

She shifted on her place, suddenly aware that she was intruding in Marlene's private conversation. The abrupt movement, however, caused the girl to finally lift her gaze and pose it on her. She smiled at her and Tifa smiled back, hiding professionally the cold fear that had settled on the pit of her stomach.

"Yeah, she's here. I know. I love you too." A pause. "What! Really…?" She bobbled with euphoric energy, tears forming in her eyes. "Thank you! Yes, of course!" Her smile faltered for a second, "But Denzel…" the voice said something. "Truly, he can? Thank you! I can't wait. Yes, I'll put her on. Goodnight, dad."

Tifa felt a bit of relief flooding her, but her back was still tense with stress. What had Barret told Marlene? And what about Denzel? She felt like demanding that she be involved in whatever plans they were making, as her comfortable reality began to finally crumble below her. Idly, she wondered if she really wanted to know about the conversation…

What if she just hung up the phone? What if she disconnected the line, so that the voice that threatened to take away the only people who had not abandoned her would be lost –nonexistent.

"Here," Marlene offered the phone to her with glinting eyes, "Dad wants to talk to you."

Though part of her clung to the urge to snap the phone in half, the almost pleading gaze of the girl melted her heart and rendered her harmless. With a small smile that showed fake happiness, she took the phone and placed it on her ear after only a second of hesitation. She watched Marlene spinning on her heels immediately after, and disappearing down the hall.

"Barret?" she called, berating herself when the coldness she was feeling leaked into that one-word greeting.

"Teef…somethin' wron'?" he asked, his concern evident in his rumbling tone.

Tifa sighed, "No. I'm sorry." She was glad her voice came out as she wanted it. Cheerful and sweet –a far cry from what she was truly feeling, "I had a long day. I am a bit tired… What's up? How's Corel and your oil company?"

"Everythin's great," he said with a chuckle, "I've finally settled down 'ere. The company's stable now an'… well, there ain't nothin' else that would make m'life better than to bring Malene 'ere. Shiva knows, I've got to keep m'promise to both her and her father…"

Her grip on the phone tightened and her free hand balled into a fist that made her knuckles change to a pale color. Boneless, she crumbled on the seat near the phone, her back to the door she had forgotten to close. _That's good… but 'my' life is not better, Barret,_ she thought grimly, fighting the urge to tell him that.

Instead she chose to do what she always did. She _pretended_ that everything was fine.

"Ah, so…," she began hoarsely and clearing her throat she continued in her normal voice. "It's time… I am happy for both of you, Barret. I really am." She paused for a second before asking, "You'll soon come pick up Marlene then?"

"Well…" the nervous pause made her jaw clench because it was an indication that whatever he was going to say next, she would not like it.

"What is it?" she prompted with a blank tone.

"Marlene 'as really taken a likin' to Denzel…" he began, and then stopped to let out a long, profound sigh. "She asked if he could come, Teef…"

Her breath caught in her lungs when she heard Denzel and Marlene's whooping voices tumbling down the hall towards her. Odin struck her, Marlene told Denzel already! Damn it!

_Stop, Barret, please! _She wanted to say it, but her lips remained glued together, _I am 'not' okay. The only people that keep me sane are those two you're trying to take. Maybe your life's great but mine isn't. I need them more than you do!_

"Teef," he truly sounded guilty.

With all her mental strength, she fought the tears that were forming in her eyes. She knew Denzel was hers and Cloud's child -hers more than his at any rate. He wouldn't be able to leave unless she permitted it. Yet, what kind of life would she be able to provide him without a happy family? Hell, he'd spent more time hanging around Marlene than being with her!

Tifa had to pull two jobs in order to provide for them since Cloud left. She was a cashier in a weapons' shop in the afternoon and then she had her bar. The only time she was with the kids was between coming home from her first job, preparing supper and then going down to her bar. Not to mention that some of that time she used it to rest.

So without Marlene, would she be enough to make Denzel happy? Did he not deserve more stability after all he'd gone through? Did he not deserve hanging around a house filled with laughter? Tifa would not be able to provide that for him –hard as she might try. But Barret… he could. Plus, Denzel would eventually need a paternal figure and with Cloud gone…

"When would you come pick them up?" she asked, feeling as a tear reluctantly escaped her lid. Still, she was glad to hear her voice hadn't quivered in the slightest.

"Tifa… come with us too," his tone lightened by the idea, and he waited expectantly for her to answer. "Come on, yo'll be happier 'ere. An' you can watch them kids and I'll take care of yo'all… please."

Part of Tifa lurched at the idea of going with them and leaving behind the place that held so many good memories but also so many bad ones –the latter ones always seeming to become stronger as time passed by. Barret was offering a solution to her solitude that was very tempting and yet... she couldn't take it. It just didn't feel right.

"I'll think about it," she lied, knowing that it was the only way to keep him from pushing the subject further. "When will you come?"

He was silent for a while, as if trying to decide whether she was lying to him or not. After a while, he gave up with a sigh of defeat, "I'll be there in three days at the latest."

She nodded, and when she realized he wouldn't be able to see it, she said, faking the excitement and happiness she knew a less selfish person would be feeling, "Alrightie, we'll wait for you then. G'night!"

"…'night, Teef," he said and she hung the phone before a sob could escape her.

She sat there for a while, gazing at the phone without looking at it as she reflected upon what was to happen. Her feelings weaved together into a mess of threads that ended in utter and endless confusion.

Truth was, she needed some alone time. Or at least, that is what she supposed her reluctance to leave the slumbers of Edge signified. Perhaps, she needed to find happiness on her own. To be able to be happy while being alone could be the solution to vanquish all her self-doubts and make her feel worthy of making someone else joyful…

Of course, if she didn't find happiness on her own, then at least she would drown in her own damn misery without dragging the children with her. Because as much as she appreciate Barret's offer, she knew it would change nothing if she went. To do so would be running away from her emotional issues.

What if she ended up spoiling their lives and the happiness they were bound to find in their new life? She would never be able to forgive herself if she did that! Just like that part of her –a small and selfish part- kept whispering in her head that she would never forgive Cloud for giving her hope and then snatching it away with his rushed decision of leaving.

But when had this feeling of something _missing_ with her life started? When had the sadness that seemed unable to be wiped away nestled on her heart, leaving eggs of other negative feelings to hatch through time?

She was sure that part of it had to do with the fact that Cloud had left. Shortly after Sephiroth's reappearance, Cloud had one day left and never returned. Cowardly as he was –though for some reason she could not blame him - he'd sent her a letter asking for forgiveness and telling her that he couldn't be who she wanted him to be. That she should forget about him.

Bah, the idiot!

That was easier said than done! If she could turn off her feelings as though turning off a damn switch, she would have done so years ago. She would have done it the second she had seen him gazing at Aerith. Because she knew right then –just like she knew now- that he would never 'ever' looked at her in that same way.

What bothered her more, however, was the fact that she felt it was _her_ fault! Granted, it was a stupid notion and yet, she couldn't shake the feeling of not being worthy enough for him –of always ending short in one way or another. Perhaps she too had stayed with Cloud out of guilt…

Still, even if that was true, she had also stayed because Cloud had been a comfort in her life. He may not have provided her with wild happiness or a fiery passion, but she had settled with comfort. After all, that was better than nothing.

In addition to that, Cloud was the only thing she had left that reminded her of her home –of Nibelheim before it had been burned. He was the only piece of her past that was not marked by a tragedy, but on the contrary, it was marked by the naïve feeling of endless possibilities for a pinked-colored future.

But comfort and happiness was not the same thing, she now knew. Sadly, she had to learn that the hard way.

"Tifa?"

She brushed at her eyes with quick and hidden movements when the voice snapped her out of her miserable thoughts. She cursed herself for crying but, when she turned around, she had her mask in place –a wide grin on her face.

As Denzel studied her in silence she wondered if he could see through her concealing mask. Most probably her eyes were red and her nose a rosy shade. Too bad she couldn't control those treacherous details too.

"I think that supper is burning…" he finally said. If he figured out that she had been crying, he hid it well. She was glad he wasn't probing at her open wound with prying questions –most of which she would not be able to answer just yet.

_Wait… did he say…! _"Oh, darn!" she sped past him in time to see whips of smoke coming out of her soup. She turned the handles of the stove off and sighed. _Just great… Gaia's forces seemed to be against me today!_

"Who votes for pizza?" she asked over her shoulder, and smiled genuinely when the kids' expressions switched from concerned ones to beaming ones.

At least pizza –the one stable factor left in her life- had yet to fail her.

**-o0o-**

**Tifa Lockhart** cracked her neck to relieve the stress as she flipped the sign on the door from close to open. She had put the kids to bed just in time to start her second job.

With graceful quickness, she fired the candles she had placed on every table. Of course, she still had the neon lights on, but she'd figured that the candles gave a homey touch to the place. Perhaps they reminded her of her own home. She had always liked it when her father lighted candles and placed them atop the piano. He would then play the instrument for her to listen for as long as she could stay awake. The candles in combination with the sound of the piano's keys had always created a soothing atmosphere that had, more often than not, lulled her to sleep.

Sometimes her mom would be present, sitting on a chair and patting her lap for Tifa to use as a pillow. Sometimes her mom would absent, and Tifa would sit in the place where she used to sit and cry over the sadden tune of her father's piano. Music never failed to show her how much her mother's death pained them both.

Shaking the memory out of her head -else her eyes would fill with tears at the reminder of what she'd lost- she moved slowly to the other side of the counter and waited for her customers to arrive. She didn't have to wait for very long, before the sound of the door opening made her turn towards the entrance expectantly. She welcomed the distraction with a smile as Rosie walked inside.

"G'night, Teef," greeted the short, red-headed waitress, shrugging off her thick coat. The weather outside was crisp. It was during these days that more customers came in, fishing within the alcoholic beverages for something that would warm them up.

Tifa smiled, "Hello Rosie. How's Bernard?"

Rosie's eyes twinkled with delight and she bit her lower lip self-consciously before moving towards Tifa cradling her hand. The martial artist frowned and tilted her head. Excitement emanated from Rosie like smoke from a fire.

When she was just in front of the barmaid with only the counter between them, she uncovered her hand and showed it to her. Tifa's eyes widened as she saw the ring glinting there, simple and yet beautiful.

Fighting a wave of envy, she moved to the other side of the counter and trapped the waitress in a bear-hug. "Holy, Rosie! Congratulations!" she managed, feeling –despite the envy there- truly happy for her friend.

Just then, and to Tifa's silent relief –for she wasn't sure if she could keep acting all happy when her life, contrary to Rosie's, had just taken a turn for the worst- the door chimed as it was opened. Immediately after, some of her customers began to file in.

Yes. They at least hadn't deserted her. They were another comfort in her life –though less strong and sometimes just as unreliable as Cloud had been. They were, nevertheless, her regular clients; the ones who came every night after work and asked for a drink and –sometimes- even her ear for an hour or so. Perhaps, in a way, she too was a comfortable stability in their lives. At least they knew that she would always be here, from nine till two thirty in the morning.

"Ah, finally!" a man -who'd been coming since the first day she opened in Edge- exclaimed with exaggerated gleefulness, "I've reached my heaven!"

She smiled at him as he plopped unceremoniously on one of the stools across from her. Rosie, for her part, moved to tuck her things in the back room before coming back and getting to work by taking the orders of the other customers.

"The usual?" Tifa asked him, flashing him a broad smile.

He nodded and sighed –a clear signal that he'd had a long day, "If you'd be kind enough, my angel!"

She patiently listened to some of his problems, ignoring her own for the time being. People came to her bar sometimes to try to wash away their problems with alcohol. Most of the times, however, they came here simply for the opportunity to be listened without interruptions and without being judged.

_They don't come here to listen but to be listened to_, she had reminded herself often, when the idea of sharing her own problems had crossed her mind. So, after a while, she had realized that that was another one of her jobs –one which came hand in hand with being a barmaid. She would listen patiently for as long as it was necessary and she would keep quiet her own problems, even if they were much bigger than theirs.

Oddly enough, it wasn't something new. Tifa had done plenty of that when she had traveled with Cloud and the rest of AVALANCHE. She was always there for all of them. She was the ear that would listen to them; the shoulder where they could lean on without fear of feeling vulnerable; the arms that would hold them together and the hands that would wipe away their tears.

But though she called it a job it was more than that. Tifa did it not because she _had_ to but because she _wanted_ to. She truly cared for all of them -friends and customers alike. She cared so much that she often pretended she was okay so as not to worry them. Tifa hid her real feelings behind a well constructed mask. She pretended –quite professionally- that she was okay, when it was her that was really breaking.

And she did it all for _love_.

**-o0o-**

**Sephiroth Crescent** finished giving his new cane the final details. He weighted it in his hand as he inspected it thoroughly. He smirked with satisfaction at his handiwork. There was no way anyone could tell Masamune was safely hidden inside the wooden cane.

He would have to limp, of course, but it was unavoidable. How else would he excuse the need of a cane otherwise? With a shrug he figured that, in the positive side, it would actually serve his disguise. Thinking of which, he moved towards the mirror in his room. Critically, he inspected his reflection for a silent while.

He had successfully managed to hide all the traits that would give away his identity, even his sword. The only thing he could not hide was his height, but then again, there were many tall men walking around Edge that one more shouldn't make that much of a difference.

Sephiroth smirked as he pulled his hood on, so that half-his face was shrouded in shadows. Checking one last time his appearance, he closed his long cloak and peeped at the watch on his wrist. It was eleven forty and almost time. He eyed the keys to the car he'd bought but decided against using it at the last moment.

The bar was not that far. It was a fifteen minute walk and, though he had to limp, he would still make it in time. Thus, taking his cane, he stepped outside and proceeded to make his way towards the Seventh Heaven.

Making his way through the dark streets, Sephiroth hoping he would soon find the best way to reveal who he was without prompting Tifa to immediately attack him. The keyword here was, naturally, 'hope'.

_Hope, huh? _The idea that the word was bound to make its way into his thoughts very often from then onwards, caused him to shake his head in between resignation and interest.

Well, there was nothing he could do about that. His mission was just about to become extremely challenging. Still, he couldn't help the smile that parted his lips at the mere idea. Challenges, after all, always seemed to provide him with a good dose of healthy excitement.

**-o0o-**

**Tifa Lockhart **moved through the bar with an unwavering smile trained on her fair face.

The night was progressing slowly –or maybe she just felt like that because of the news she'd received earlier from Barret. The signs of depression were something she was still unused to feel. She never did realized how far she'd slipped, until she was crying on her bathroom floor, feeling a horrible hangover produced by an orgy of alcohol.

She'd once or twice thought about getting someone else to help her with the bar, but in the end she'd convinced herself that she and Rosie could handle it. The truth, nevertheless, was that she was afraid to rely on more people than she already did. She was petrified to give another stranger the opportunity to hurt her. It had taken her a lot to trust Rosie and, even then, she now felt hurt.

_I should be happy for her! _She chided herself sternly, when the envy tried to crawl its way into the forefront of her mind. With a crack of her neck, she shoved it away… for now.

She sighed as some of her customers began to turn in for the night. She knew most of them were going back to their empty homes –homes like the one she was about to have. Still, some left with a grin for what awaited them, a comfortable bed already warmed up by a husband or a wife.

Tifa envied those last.

The cloak struck midnight. Just as the bells of the city's main cloak died, the bell of the door chimed and she turned towards it with interest. Normally, people were leaving by this time, not arriving. Idly, she noted the lively atmosphere tuning down, until there was nothing but silence broken by the newcomer's steps.

Her heart gave a leap inside her ribcage as her eyes descended on the figure that had just walked into her bar. Seemingly unconcerned by the interest he arouse, he made his way to the booth at the far end. Tifa could see that as he moved, many eyes followed him as though spellbound by curiosity. She knew, because she was under that same spell, unable to unglue her gaze from the alluring figure that seemed to embody the temptation of the night itself.

A multitude of questions that none dared voiced were balancing precariously in the end of every tongue inside her bar. Questions produced by the appearance of a cloaked figure that had arrived at such an odd hour –coming with the breeze of a new day.

_Who are you? Why do you hide? What do you hide? From whom do you hide? What lies within the shadows of your hood? What lies beneath your cloak of darkness?_

It was rare to have a new customer. Every new face that came to her bar aroused questions. Her other clients were quick to strike conversation, all excited by the idea of someone giving some spice to their lives –even if they like the comfort with which they live.

Comfort was simply a strange thing. Tifa liked comfort and yet, at the same time, she jumped at the opportunity of something changing her routine. As incoherent as it was, she clung to her routine and at the same time despised it. She loved knowing things and at the same time missed the unknown. Tifa unconsciously wished, with dark eagerness, to find something that would destroy the comfort of certainty. To find something or someone that would throw pieces of the unknown at her.

The mystery of not being certain about things that surrounded her, rattled –no, not even that. It awakened within her something that produced excitement. Perhaps she missed the adventure of going to save the world? Maybe she missed the feeling of not knowing what would happen next -the idea that at any given moment she could die and so she was forced to live to the limit. To regard each day and each moment precious because they could be her last had made her live a life of excitement.

Or rather, it had made her live. Period.

So, with those thoughts in mind, Tifa continued to watch the stranger. She followed him with her gaze as, with an elegant grace –despite his slight limp- he took a seat, his back presented to the wall.

Perhaps it had to do with the fact that his face was shrouded by mystery and shadows. Or maybe it was the way he had strolled –with confidence and elegance rarely seen in the people from the slumps. Or maybe it was the possibilities hidden behind his secretive appearance. He was tall and had smooth skin –by what little she could see - that was as pale as moonlight. But… what else?

Certainly, there was much more to him than that, but it was hidden. And hidden things always promised an unusual surprise when discovered.

The brunette continued her silent inspection of the man that already had ignited something within her. Something she had thought was lost. Though he wore a long, black cloak, she could see his lithe body was athletic. And even if he was sitting with his broad-back straight, his pose still managed to seem relaxed and unperturbed.

Slowly, he slipped a hand out of his leather glove. Long, thin fingers moved towards the flame dancing atop the candle. His fingers hovered within the flames' reach for what seemed like an eternity, mindless of the fire kissing the tips of his fingers.

Tifa watched mesmerized as the small flame licked his skin, two fingers almost caressing its orange core. Then, with a gentle squeeze, the flame died under his meeting fingers. More darkness seemed to envelop the figure now, and his odd action broke murmurs all around, but the stranger paid them no heed as he inspected his hand. Or at least, that is what Tifa guessed he was doing since she could only see shadows where his eyes should be.

Through the corner of her eye, she saw Rosie gave a step towards the newcomer and Tifa was quick to stop her by placing her hand on the woman's shoulder. "I'll take this," she said earning a curt nod, of either relief or curiousness –she couldn't tell and didn't care.

The martial artist was not sure what prompted her to make the decision to go to him. It was perhaps the temptation of the unknown that drew her towards him like a bee to the promise of honey. As she closed the distance, she could feel nervousness creeping towards her stomach and yet she felt… what? Alive... curious …excited?

"Are you alright?" she asked when she had reached his table. He was rubbing the fingers that had extinguished the flame together, as though to relive whatever it was he had felt.

She saw his lips –the only thing apart from his hands, nose and jaw she was able to see- quirking slightly and her breath heightened a notch. The _alluringness_ of the smirk kindled within her something that made her blush, but which she could not identify. It was an attractive smirk that had only intensified the mystery surrounding him.

The stranger suddenly tilted his head slightly to one side and, in response to her question, he showed her his fingers. They were intact which was strange considering how long he'd been playing with the small flame.

Play with fire and you'll eventually get burned. How many times she'd heard that and yet… he hadn't. Naturally, that only doubled her interest.

"W-what can I get you?" she asked, wishing she could ask so many more question but not willing to pry –else he should decide to leave and never come back.

It was a strange kind of fear she felt. Doubtless, it was a baseless one considering she didn't even knew who he was. Still, the idea of something new creeping into her life was too good to let it pass by unchallenged.

"Caipiroshka," he said, and his tone was as smooth as velvet. The sound somewhat reminded her of Vincent Valentine. How they manage to match their tones to the cloak of mystery they wore was beyond her.

Caipiroshka, the result of the combination of vodka and lime.

_Interesting, that he should ask for an old drink_, she thought as –with a nod and a smile- she left him to prepare his order. She had only heard the drink ordered by SOLDIERs back when she was working in Midgar –a little before she was recruited by AVALANCHE. Did this then meant this man was an ex-SOLDIER?

Tifa did not know why, but she felt in the pit of her stomach excitement accumulating into a vortex and making her smile –not because she had to- but because she _wanted_ to. She knew that the possibility that he would not come tomorrow was probable, and yet she couldn't help self-challenging herself to the task of finding the reason for his mystery.

Yes. Tifa had made up her mind. She would find out what secrets he kept vaulted just behind those _tempting_ lips.

**To be Continued…**

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**AN: **Please do not forget to **review**, it means a lot to know if this is being appreciated. Also, worry not, emo Tifa will not stay like that throughout the story. She just needs some _excitement_ in her life and I am sure Sephiroth would be quite apt to provide just that.

Also, note that this is not _love at first sight_. It is merely physical and perhaps even mental (mystery) attraction.


	3. Musical Confession

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any of its characters. I am just burrowing them for a while.

**Author's notes: **Again, thank you for the reviews! I am trying to update on a regular basis of once a week. I should have updated yesterday but I didn't finish the chapter until today. ~Hope you enjoy!

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"_Only misery is without envy in this world."_

_-Giovanni Boccaccio-_

"**One Winged Angels"**

By: FenixPhoenix

**Chapter 3: "Musical Confessions"**

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**Tifa Lockhart **had thought about one thing and one thing only during the past two days. She'd thought about her mysterious customer. The enigmatic man who always arrived at midnight sharp –just as the clock's bells had ceased to chime- and who sat on the corner of her bar dressed in his concealing cloak.

He was the same man that would always put out the candle on his table slowly, caressing the flame before extinguishing it between naked kissing fingers. The individual that would –like an unalterable routine- asked for just one thing. Three Caipiroshkas. Lime and vodka and nothing else. It was only to give that one-word order that he used his voice. The rare sound, though short, quite pleasing to the ear.

Afterwards, he would leave as silently and as calmly as he'd arrived. Five minutes before closing time, he would stand up, leave his payment on the table and -with a curt nod her way- he would melt amidst the darkness outside her door.

Though both times she'd seen him -after that first night- she had felt the urge to ask about his life and his reasons for hiding –if that was indeed the purpose of the cloak- she never did.

Perhaps it had to do with the cold fear produced by the idea that her prying could scare him off. Then again, maybe she was simply afraid to learn that the answers to her questions were in reality not that out of the ordinary.

Still, fact remain that the man interested her in a level unattainable by anyone else –except perhaps Vincent Valentine when she had just met him. But that was a long time ago…

This stranger, however, had somehow waltz his way into her every thought. From the moment she opened her eyes until the moment she closed them, she thought about him and the secrets that were growing more addictive by the second.

But today was different.

Three days after his first visit, her waking thoughts were focused on someone else. A person she had been trying –quite incisively- to forget about ever since he had called to mess her life around.

Surprisingly, she had actually been able to ignore him and his unwelcome news until the last minute. Now, however, she could run away from the reality of things no longer. So as soon as she woke up, her demeanor turned -not cheerful or calmed- but simply sour.

_Today's the day_, she reminded herself grimly. Tifa groaned and stared at the ceiling wishing she could backtrack time so that this cursed day would never arrive. As her dark room slowly lit up, she turned towards the digital clock that stood at her bedside table. The green digits blinked the hour. It was a quarter to ten.

Closing her eyes tightly, she balled her body beneath the blankets attaining a fetus position. She hugged her knees to her chest tightly and tried to will her tears to dry with little success.

Shiva, today was the day!

She heard the clock buzzing as the alarm she had set went on. Hastily, she turned off the damn thing before strolling -almost in a trance- towards the bathroom. She opened the faucet and cleaned her face with frigid water to both snap her awake and wipe away the tale-tell signs of having been crying.

Eyeing her reflection on the mirror critically, she practiced the smile she would be using to hide her suffering today. When she was somewhat convinced that the smile seemed as genuine as she could forced it, she pulled on her silk robe and left the room.

Silently –so as not to disturb the sleeping children- she proceeded towards the kitchen. She had asked for the day off in her cashier job and had more than enough time to make breakfast for the kids before they woke up.

Why weren't the kids at school? Well, Tifa had allowed them to stay home since they were leaving with Barret for Corel that same day. Having accepted that, there was really no point in sending them to school for what would be their last day.

She sighed profoundly as she took the eggs out and turned the flame of the stove on. _Odin, lend me strength today, _she silently prayed as she proceeded with her task.

By the time Marlene and Denzel had woken up and made their way towards the kitchen, Tifa was waiting for them with a broad smile on her face and two fairly-edible dishes of breakfast on her burnt hands.

Well, she'd tried as best she could. Perhaps Denzel would make pancakes for them?

**-o0o-**

**Sephiroth Crescent** sat in the windowsill of the abandoned building that stood old and forgotten before the Seventh Heaven.

He peeped at his watch. It was six o'clock in the afternoon. Merely three hours had gone by since Tifa had opened the door to greet her dark-skinned –extremely boisterous- friend. He sighed as he waited passively for anything else, yet nothing out of the ordinary happened. Perhaps the man –what was his name? Ah! Yes, Barret… Well, perhaps he intended to spend the night before leaving with the children?

Sephiroth's eyes narrowed as he thought about this. If Barret were to stay, then he would have to absent himself from her bar tonight. So far, Tifa had allowed him to move with his cloak inside her bar unopposed, but he wasn't sure Barret would be as lenient. To have someone as shady-looking as him enter her bar at such an odd hour would certainly stir some noise within him. It would not be unexpected if the man were to interrogate him –asking him the motive for his cloak at least. Whether he was a simple customer or not, Barret would hardly care.

Perhaps Tifa would not permit it if Barret were to approach him? But even if that was the case, the man didn't strike him as one to follow orders. No. This man seemed a bit blind to reason or tactfulness. Especially when it came to Tifa…

The ex-SOLDIER cracked his neck to relieve the tension that had settled there. He stood up, stretched his arms and was about to call it a day, when one last glance towards the street changed his mind.

With interest, he leveled the binoculars to his eyes and watched as Barret stepped out into the street followed by two children –a boy and a girl- and Tifa. The children were pulling at their trunks before Barret took a hold of both and –carrying them without trouble- placed them in the trunk of the truck he was driving. He turned his attention from the two beaming children to the woman Sephiroth had been sent to protect. With something akin to… what?

Sympathy…?

Empathy…?

Well, with some unusual feeling which he couldn't quite describe, the ex-SOLDIER noticed that the feelings lying just behind her perfect smile were far from positive. The woman was a master of deception. The smile was perfect, beaming and unwavering. Yet, what had given her away were her sadden eyes. The glint that her dark orbs held was not produced by happiness but by unshed tears.

He frowned at this -still confused by the odd feelings he was developing- as he gazed at the smiling woman. Normally, Sephiroth would feel nothing. Indifference in regards to emotional issues was one of the reasons why he had moved within the ranks of SOLDIERS so easily. He'd taken missions based on their success rate and the challenge they pose. Emotions –and sometimes even questionable ethics- had never been an issue.

Still, what bothered him was not the fact that he felt 'something' in regards to Tifa's situation. What was truly unsettling was that –hard as he tried- he could not recall another time when he had felt something for anyone.

The last time he'd felt sad, guilty and angry had been when he'd found the body of his master. The man who had taught him how to fight and perhaps even how to live had been murdered before he had finished his lessons in the latter case. His master had been the only man who had seemed to care about him in departments that had no relation to how useful a 'tool' he could be.

Well, maybe not the only one but certainly the first one amidst a small number. But Sephiroth believed he had cared about other people. Angeal, Zack and even Genesis had turned his life 'pleasant' enough to bear it without grudges. But why was it that when they'd died he had felt absolutely nothing?

_Jenova_, a voice inside him suggested.

True enough, the entity had somehow taken control of his rational thought before the first two were killed, rendering him unable to appreciate the full extent of what their death meant. Where Genesis was or whether he was still alive were unanswered questions he had never thought about before now.

Hmmm… Perhaps now that he was free, he had regained the ability to reflect upon the consequences of his actions. To reflect upon who meant what to him… He shook his head, tossing his thoughts aside for the time being –else he should miss something vital of what was going on.

When his mind was blank and ready to absorb new information, he focused back on the scene playing below him. Tilting his head, he zoomed out when he saw Tifa leaning forward. With mild curiosity, he watched as she hugged each of the children tightly. He wondered if she would break when they finally jumped into the truck, but to his surprise, she didn't. In fact, her smile widened even more and he was left impressed by the sheer strength with which she held her bearings.

Barret -after making sure the kids were secured in the car- turned to her and trapped her in a tight hug. Sephiroth zoomed in on their faces and –concentrating on their lips- read what was being said.

Uh-oh, this was not good. The damn man had just invited her to go with them to Corel. Sephiroth almost flinched at the idea of having to come up with a new plan to get close to Tifa. So far, his current plan seemed to be working marvelously. But if she were to move, then obviously he would have to come up with something different.

A wave of relief flooded him, however, when he read her polite decline. She told him she had things to do here. For a second, he thought Barret would insist, but with a sigh he let her go. Luck, fate or mere coincidence, Sephiroth didn't care as long as Tifa didn't change her mind.

After another hug, Barret sat behind the wheel and spared one last glance at Tifa before twisting the ignition and driving away.

Sephiroth continued watching her intently as she waved them goodbye with that wide smile on her face. When the vehicle had disappeared from view, nevertheless, she went down on her knees quite briskly. The ex-SOLDIER frowned at the odd feeling produced by witnessing the raw pain carved in her face. It was almost as though someone had pinched his heart with a needle. It was a mild, almost imperceptible pain beating there within the core of his feelings and yet it was pain nonetheless.

Far from feeling annoyed by his sudden change, he felt something resembling relief. The fact that he could feel not only meant that he was –in the end- human, but it also marked the fact that Jenova's control over him had completely vanished. After all, he was certain Jenova would have never allowed him to 'feel' anything for someone else that was not her. If indeed the entity was even a 'she' to begin with.

Casting his musings of Jenova aside, he continued watching Tifa –studying her as she sat on her legs in the cold, hard pavement outside her bar. Tears were streaming down her face obstinately. She looked awfully vulnerable and her eyes seemed hollow as she welled up in her pain –oblivious to the fact that she was being watched.

He wondered if she would have crumbled so openly had she known she was not alone. Pulling the binoculars away from his eyes, he turned his back to her. He knew the answer to his inquiry. No. She would have kept the smile on her face had she known she was not alone.

As he walked away, he wondered if she would open the bar tonight. She probably would, though, and she would use that same smile she'd now perfected with her clients. Why? Because so far Sephiroth had learned one unquestionable thing about Tifa Lockhart. Her most profound fear lay within the thought of being alone. Unlike him, she didn't seem to enjoy solitude. Quite the contrary, she had an insatiable need of constantly being surrounded by people.

"I will see you tonight, then… Tifa Lockhart," he murmured as he stepped out of the building and gazed at the mosaic of colors in the sky. Sephiroth smirked as another realization hit him.

How queer that it had been the woman -he had once upon a time almost killed- who had shown him he was not the monster Hojo, Jenova and ShinRa had worked so hard to make him believe he was.

**-o0o-**

**Tifa Lockhart** flipped the sign on the door from close to open.

It had been a sad day for her and it was taking all her self-control to keep from crumbling to the floor in tears. Mere hours ago, Barret had dropped by to take the children away. Though it had hurt her to renounce to the two people that made her life less miserable, she was careful not to show it as she'd hugged them tightly, promising she would visit them soon.

Lighting the candles in each table, she turned to stare at the ceiling when the neon lights began to flicker. The door opened just then and in strolled Rosie, her coat tight around her body as she closed the door so as to avoid chilling the place.

"Howdy, Teef," she greeted and her attention switched swiftly to the flickering light, "Ah, so that's what they meant…

"Huh?" Tifa turned to her frowning, "You know something about why the light is dimming, Rosie?"

The waitress nodded as she tucked her things in the room behind the counter. When she was back, she proceeded to explain. "Seems ShinRa's working on some new technology or somethin' like that. They said on the news that if they keep it up, they'll probably cause a blackout tonight."

Tifa scowled as the music box in her bar switched off –not having enough power to keep playing songs. "You think we'll have customers anyways?" asked Tifa, hoping they would, for right now she needed the distraction.

In answer to her question, the bell chimed and in stroll a line of her regular customers. _Shiva, thank you for this,_ she thought as she walked back to the counter and greeted her clients with a welcoming smile.

Tifa made some rounds, amazed to see more people than she expected after Rosie's news. As she was walking back to the counter, her gaze unconsciously moved towards the clock hanging on the wall. It was five minutes till midnight and, for some reason, she felt her heartbeat accelerating.

Tifa couldn't wait.

As the sound of the bells of the Edge's central clock faded, she heard the door opening and her eyes immediately snapped towards the cloaked figure she knew –even if she told herself otherwise- she'd been waiting for.

He nodded once her way when he must have felt her eyes upon him before he limped towards his usual seat. Like he had done before, he slid a glove off and kissed the flame of the candle goodbye. Feeling her lips parting into an effortless smile, she made her way towards him.

"Hello, what can I get you?" she asked, gazing at the soft lips and the strong jaw that composed what little she could see of his face.

"Bottle of Vodka, a glass of lime and two drinking glasses," he said, his voice smooth and low. This was actually the first time she had heard so many words come out of his lips and she realized his voice was indeed quite appealing.

_Wait, did he say-? _Tifa's eyebrows rose at the change of routine. Well, it was still vodka and lime… but why the two glasses? Was he expecting someone? A friend…? A date…?

For some reason she felt an indescribable urge to ask who he was meeting today, but she didn't. It was not her place to question her customers. Though that didn't mean she liked it.

"A-alright then," she said finding it a bit harder to smile as she walked away. What the hell was wrong with her! How could she feel jealous! The man owed her nothing –no explanation and certainly no loyalty.

Maybe it had to do with the fact that she'd already lost two people that made her life somewhat interesting today. And this change could very well mean that she would lose him too! Because, even if she was not ready to admit it, the stranger made her life bearable by giving her something to think about –a mystery to unravel.

But would she still feel the same intrigue if a woman were to share his table? …If someone other than her were to share his drink?

Caipiroshka…

**-o0o-**

**Sephiroth Crescent **studied her attentively from below his hood. _How odd…_, he thought as he hid his mouth behind his intertwined fingers, his elbows placed on the table before him.

She had greeted him with a smile that -he was surprised to find- had been authentic. Yet, as soon as he had ordered and asked for two glasses instead of one her smile had visually disappeared and was promptly replaced by a fake one. He wondered mildly puzzled what her change signified. But –more importantly than that- he wondered what in Odin's name had prompted him to ask for two glasses instead of one!

Perhaps it had something to do with the development of empathy he felt towards her. Or was it sympathy?

He leaned back on his seat –unconsciously settling deeper within the shadows- when she came back and placed the things he had ordered on the table before him. The smile was still in her lips but it was half-way honest.

"Hey, Teef!" a man yelled and Sephiroth realized it was the same man who had badmouthed Cloud not too long ago. Tifa whirled around and tilted her head as the slightly-drunken man pointed at the piano that stood unused in the corner.

With interest, Sephiroth noticed as her back straightened and tension seemed to settle on every one of her muscles. Why though?

"Com'on, Angel," the man said, sauntering towards her and pulling her by the upper arm towards the direction of the piano. "There's no music 'cause of them damn ShinRa people. Play for us, 'kay? Yo've always played lovely!"

Tifa cleaned the sweat of her palms on the side of her pants in a nervous gesture. He could tell she wanted to decline but it was simply not in her nature to disappoint people. So –as he knew she would- she finally gave in with a low sigh.

Sephiroth waited –as did the entire bar- for her to settle on the seat. Rosie was quick to place some candles above the piano's surface so as to provide more light –given that the lights had dimmed into a quarter of their potential.

He closed his eyes when he heard the first note play. If there was something he enjoyed above all else, it was music. Unlike most people, when he used music and feelings in a sentence it was with an entire different connotation. While most people usually felt something whenever they listen to a particular piece of music –almost always in accordance to the notes or the lyrics- Sephiroth physically 'felt' the music. It was not that the music made him feel, but that he actually felt the notes.

Though he could still listen to it, he enjoyed it in an entire different level. Putting it simply, the music touched him –literary. Sure, it was strange but not impossible. He'd even read about it in scientific magazines. It was something called synesthesia. A strange –almost magical- condition where the sense are intertwined; where they crossover allowing people to feel music, taste colors, smell textures and so on.

It was for this same reason why Sehiroth had been very careful around music. He had learned, through time, how to close his senses so as to not let the music drown him. If he listened to a piece without guarding his mind, he could end up wrapped in a state of drunken fervor.

Still, though he knew the dangers, he lowered some of his self-constructed defenses wishing –for some indescribable reason- to experience the music that clearly caused her so much pain and –at the same time- stirred so much passion.

He soon heard her fingers weaving a simple melody that was still surprisingly beautiful. It began, slow, sweet and steady. He felt that first part like drops of rain upon his skin, cool, soft and soothing as they slid down his skin. Then there was a slight pause before her other hand joined the first. The melody became stronger but it was still slow and sweet. It was no longer rain, though. No. This time it was a solid hand barely brushing against the skin of his arms and back. Careful fingers of music touched his skin and made every hair on his body stand.

Suddenly, the music quickened and the melody became just slightly more complex. The fingers pressed the keys with newfound strength and poured, with each note, another emotion. It was still sweet, yes, but amidst that lay fear and pain mingling to create… love?

Though he was unsure as to the feeling, this new part Sephiroth felt like a caress on his cheek. But no fingers were caressing him. Instead, it was almost as if someone had touched him with a soft feather made of silk. He felt his heart beating rapidly in tune with the melody. He felt the beginning of his own emotions brewing inside. That sent flashes of alert inside his head and he was quick to shut his senses as he brought up his defensive wall again.

Sephiroth took a minute to destroy the sensation, but continued to listen to her nonetheless. His eyes widened slightly when he saw a tear rolling down her cheek. With graceful movements, she brushed it away before anyone could notice it. And –with eyes still closed- she continued pouring her heart out in every note she played. Her fingers wandered through the keys, moving with fluid movements and with a confidence built by long years of experience.

It was a diary -an open confession of hers and yet, no one seemed to notice! How could people be so blind? It was truly amazing how something as obvious to him was lost to them.

When the music stopped, people began to clap and cheer. For a second, he felt the impulse to knock them out! How dare they cheer something that was so sacred, it should have been received with nothing more and nothing less than awed silence? But the pressure and the strange jolt of anger vanished when he saw her stand and give a small reverence to the crowd.

Tifa Lockhart was truly amazing.

She was on the verge of breaking, yet she still managed to pull a smile as she confronted the oblivious crowd. Was this what Minerva had seen? Was this the strength of heart she had felt that had convinced her to spare Tifa instead of killing her?

Sephiroth felt a smile tugging at his lips. _It seems that the planet is indeed in good hands… _

**-o0o-**

**Tifa Lockhart** left the piano after she had finished playing the song her father had composed after her mother's death. Though she had decided to play something more lively, her fingers had moved on their own accord giving an abstract voice to the feelings bottled inside.

As the crowd cheered for her, however, she was glad to see none had seen through her outer layer. Well, it was expected. Tifa often thought she was easy to read but a lot of practice had transformed her into a professional pretender.

With her unwavering smile, she continued her rounds. By two in the morning her customers began to leave. In less than ten minutes, her bar was emptied but for three people.

"You better get going, Rosie," Tifa said as she noticed how late –or early- it was. The last thing she wanted was for the woman to be absent from her soon-to-be-husband more than was necessary.

The door to the bar opened. With relief she noted that her mysterious customer had not left.

"Bernard!" Rosie breathed as, with a wide smile, she ran towards the open arms of the newly arrived.

"Ready to go?" he asked her and then, turning to Tifa he said, "Oh, mornin', Tifa."

Tifa smiled, "Hello, Bernard. Don't worry, you can take her now."

Rosie smiled at Tifa when the martial artist handed her the coat she had tucked in the back room. With that the pair left and Tifa was both surprised and relieved that she had truly felt happy for them -albeit a little envious.

The sound of ice clinging against glass made her switch her attention from the door to the man who was still drinking in the last booth. It was just then that she noticed the spare glass he had asked for stood unused. Likewise, she noted that the vodka bottle was still halfway full.

Part of her –a very selfish one- felt satisfaction at noticing these details. Details which marked that whoever he had been expecting had not arrived. However, her more caring part was quick to reproach her. How could she be happy about something like this? Hadn't she suffered the same vain hope of waiting herself? Didn't she know how much it hurts…?

Biting her lower lip she approached him slowly. "I am sorry that your…er…," she struggled for a word, "…drinking partner didn't come."

She frowned confused when she saw the corner of his lips quirking upward into a ghostly smile of one who knew something she didn't.

"I wouldn't say that," he replied cryptically, taking the bottle of vodka and filling the empty glass halfway with the liquid. He finished the drink by pouring lime in it before sliding it her way.

Tifa's eyes widened at that and she turned to him with a tilted head in silent query. The smirk on those soft lips intensified, "After that song… you look like you could use it."

Shiva! He knew? This had never happened before. No one had been able to see past her smile!

She felt her knees weakening and slid into the boot across him before she was sent to the ground. She knew she must have paled. His invitation was simply so unexpected that, though his words were not really comforting, they felt that way.

She took the glass and shoved half the drink into her mouth, feeling as it traveled down her throat. And suddenly, she could take it no longer.

Tifa cried. She cried and, between overwhelming sobs, told him what had happened. She confessed to him why her heart was breaking and, though he didn't say anything, it was enough to know he listened.

**To be Continued…**

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**Author's Notes: **Well, as you probably noticed I am aiming for a different kind of Sephiroth here. Hope you like him! Also, don't forget to make my day and **review** please.


	4. Bits and Pieces

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any of its characters. I am just burrowing them for a while.

**Author's notes: **This chapter was not supposed to end here but it was getting too long and I decided to cut it. ~Hope you enjoy! Please do not forget to **review**!

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"_Strength is born in the deep silence of long-suffering hearts."_

_-Felicia D. Hemas-_

"**One Winged Angels"**

By: FenixPhoenix

**Chapter 4: "Bits and Pieces"**

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**Sephiroth Crescent **stared unblinkingly at the slumped figure before him. He knew he should have stopped her when she had downed her fourth glass, but he had naively believed she would be able to hold her alcohol. After all, Tifa Lockhart was the barmaid of a tavern!

Sighing, he pondered upon what to do. The woman had passed out only a short moment ago, mumbling bits and pieces of unrelated information. Some of those, he'd found extremely amusing while others he wished he could just erased from his memory.

Most of those babbles had been about how bad sex with Cloud had been. Apparently, Tifa was now convinced that fate had dictated that they could not be together as lovers. Sephiroth was grateful she had at least spared him a detailed account of her sexual encounters with the blonde swordsman. It was bad enough as it was.

Still, that was by far not the worst subject she had touched. No. Tifa had also spoken about much more solemn things. She'd once or twice even mention Nibelheim's fire, but he was quick to turn her attention away from the tender subject. Nibelheim encased quite a few ghosts for him too.

His tired eyes fixed again on Tifa's slumped form. Now that the children were gone, there was no one who would be able to keep an eye on her. His luminescent gaze wandered to the door of the bar. He had already flipped the sign from open to close, but the door was still unlocked. This was one of his many concerns.

Sure, he could lock the door and then use the power of his Jenova cells to teleport himself to his house. However, there were several problems -or rather question said action would arise.

First off, ever since he'd broken Jenova's control over him, teleporting was becoming much more difficult and tiring. Was it really a good idea to use his powers this lightly? Moreover, he was sure Tifa would wonder how he'd managed to lock the door from the outside without having the key. If those things were not enough, he just had to think about the fact that Tifa was in danger. From the moment Minerva had sent him back to protect her, the Goddess had painted a target on the barmaid's back.

Tifa was doubtlessly strong enough to hold her own, but in her current condition she was extremely vulnerable. If he left her alone, he would be providing a perfect opportunity for their enemies to strike.

He sighed and leaned on the table thoughtfully, swirling the contents of his glass. Granted, he hadn't yet found any evidence that Tifa was being observed by someone other than him. Still, he couldn't quite shake his concern away. His SOLDIER's instincts set alarms ringing inside his head whenever he thought of Tifa being alone.

And why shouldn't he worry? If what Minerva had said was correct, the one who would want Tifa dead was none other than Jenova. And even if only pieces of the entity remained, it was still a force to be reckoned with.

Sephiroth sipped at his drink, trying to quell the sudden dryness in his throat.

_Jenova_… The last he'd seen her, the entity had been dwelling inside him –burrowing his strength when he fought against Avalanche.

His jaw clenched slightly as another realization drew on him. Where had they fought? In the damn lifestream! Within the soul of the very planet itself!

He smirked bitterly.

Taking this into consideration, there was only one possible –not very welcomed- conclusion. If Jenova was still alive –which according to Minerva she was- then she could be everywhere and anywhere.

Granted, she was probably weakened by the attack and subsequent loss. But the entity was not something that could be eradicated that easily -far from it, in fact. He sipped at his drink as his mind became enraptured by thoughts of Jenova.

Sepiroth had believed he'd been Jenova's only soldier –her most powerful weapon. Now, however, he was convinced of his mistake, at least in the first assumption. After all, those three silver-haired clowns had called him brother, hadn't they? Hell, he'd traded one of them for his body in order to return to life!

Not only that, but hadn't he felt Jenova dwell in whispers within that body?And if the entity could control them, then that meant they had to have been implanted with her cells.

"More products of ShinRa's project J…?" he mumbled to himself, leaning on his elbows and frowning. They had to be. There was no other explanation. They had been working based on the reunion theory, hadn't they? A theory Jenova knew far too much about…

He closed his eyes as he pulled his chaotic memories into the front of his mind, trying to get them into a coherent sequence. His jaw clenched slightly in irritation. His mind was broken into bits and pieces of different puzzles! It was annoying!

Fact was, Sephiroth had been crystallized in Mako energy inside the Northern Crater after his swim in the lifestream. Jenova had caged him in order to increase the powers of his body –the body she was planning on possessing while she worked on recovering hers.

Still, he'd seen things and he felt as though he'd done things too. However, his subsequent appearances had not been his real self slashing and destroying. No. Jenova had taken over the bodies of the black-caped men. Since they too had Jenova cells implanted, she'd morphed their bodies into the only person everyone would recognize, respect and fear… Sephiroth Crescent.

Sephiroth had only learned of this after being dispatched by Cloud and landing on the lifestream. The flow of energy had cleared his mind of the haze that was Jenova's control, and had help in stitching together some of his memories, but not all.

In the end, Sephiroth had realized something quite unsettling. He had done every single atrocity and he had done none. Why? Because even if he had not physically wielded the sword that killed so many, he had directed the events following Jenova's whispered orders. He had been the puppeteer of twelve of the black-caped men. Yet, the puppeteer had followed the orders of a master!

How very ironic.

Sephiroth frowned as something popped into his head. _The black-caped men... _If he recalled correctly, sometime after being crystallized, he was looking through Jenova's eyes as she woke inside the ShinRa building. Her awakening had been prompted by Cloud's cells reacting with the remnants of the entity and giving her power. Prompted by Sephiroth's own reasoning –stolen by the entity and used as her own- she had conducted a rather enlightening investigation.

Sephiroth, reduced to a tool when she took his form, had seen through her eyes everything that happened as though he'd been present. Jenova had searched the ShinRa building extensively in search for information. She'd soon come across some of Hojo's files regarding the Nibelheim's incident. In there, they'd learned that Hojo had used the survivors of Nibelheim as test subjects for his 'reunion theory'. He had injected them with Jenova's cells and then sent them into the world. To be able to recognize them, he'd tattooed a number on their bodies.

In all there were thirteen subjects. Subject that –because of their chosen wardrobe- came to be referred to as 'the black-caped men'. However, were they really all? Sephiroth wasn't so sure anymore. After all, Zack and Cloud -though injected- had not been given a number.

Suppose Hojo had injected more people but decided to keep those a secret? It was not a farfetched theory. The mad scientist had even enough Jenova cells left to inject his own unstable body!

"Hmph… such an idiotic man," Sephiroth murmured icily. Naturally, Hojo's body –or rather his mind- had quickly been taken over by the Jenova virus… To believe he would be capable of accomplishing something not even him, Sephiroth, could, was a testament of the scientist's delusions of grandeur.

The ex-SOLDIER shook his head, stopping his thoughts from drifting out of subject. He forced himself to focus back on Jenova, rather than the pathetic life of the man he'd hated for most of his life.

If his theory of there being more products of Project J was true, then that would mean Jenova could still have a significant number of subjects –of soldiers at her disposal. Sephiroth tsked angrily. Any of those puppets could help Jenova dispose of Tifa! Moreover, he knew that Jenova would transform those puppets into a cheap imitation of himself. Again, she would morph their bodies to resemble the only person that linked them all together –the one they all remembered the most because he –Sephiroth Crescent- had blazed their hometown!

Jenova would do it. He was sure of it! She would do it because the cells inside him stirred at the thought of Jenova. And why wouldn't they? Jenova had controlled him, making him order his clones to slaughter the other black-caped men in order to bring about the so-called reunion. She had known –she'd even said it so- that once all those split cells were merged together, she would reawaken completely. She would no longer be in need of a mere 'mortal' body.

How ironic that her plan had hatched after Cloud's attempt to stop him from following her orders! When Sephiroth had been pushed off the reactor by Cloud, shortly after Nibelheim's burning, he had traveled the lifestream. But he had not done it alone. He'd held in his arms the head of Jenova.

The lifestream, being the memory of the planet, held within the soul-liquid that composed its core, a vast amount of knowledge. Jenova had absorbed that knowledge and so had him. Thus, in the end, what he'd learned she'd also learned but in a greater amount. Which inevitable meant that just like he could 'hear' the lifestream after that, so could she. No! Not only that, but Jenova herself had become part of the lifestream –tainting it with her virus and producing the geostigma outbreaks.

Naturally, this resulted in his main problem. Jenova had most probably overheard his conversation with Minerva. Therefore, she was fully aware of what his job was, and knew that one way to stop him from convincing Tifa of his good intentions would be to have another Sephiroth raging havoc. At least, that is what he would do in her place.

_How troublesome_, he thought, as his free hand moved to massage his throbbing temples. This was going to be harder than he had originally predicted. Just trying to straighten all the past confusion into a coherent explanation was proving to be a task close to impossible. More often than not, he had to remind himself that during certain events he hadn't even been present!

A groan coming out from the barmaid made him snap back to reality. Welcoming the distraction, he chose to concentrate instead on the problem at hand rather than in those that loomed darkly in the horizon. Letting a soft sigh escape his lips, he strolled towards the door –forgetting to even limp- and locked it.

"Yo're foot's better, ain'it?" she pointed out half- conscious.

For a moment he stood quite still, cursing his lack of carefulness. However, when he noticed how glazed her eyes were, he knew it didn't mattered. Even if she where to realize certain things, she would not remember them by the morrow. Why did the thought produce a sense of disappointment though?

"Let's get you upstairs," he said, moving towards her calmly.

"Yo smell s'nice," she mumbled as he scooped her into his arms; her arms immediately clasping around his neck, "Yo're m'mystery man—Ah! I can see yo're kitten eyes! Still, yo're sexy! A sexy mystery! …I…I miss 'em..."

Sephiroth had made his choice after hearing those slurry words coming out her lips. He would stay with her until the morrow, by which time, he seriously hoped, she would be making more sense.

**-o0o-**

**Sephiroth Crescent **placed a bucket on the floor beside her bed. She was already fast asleep, but he knew she would wake up some hours later when the need to puke prompted her to.

As he waited for that to happen while sitting on a chair he'd place on the corner of the room, he couldn't help walking down memory lane.

_*A nineteen year old Sephiroth sat in a stool before the counter of the bar. He was staring intently at the glass of vodka half empty in his hand. _

_He smirked bitterly. _

_The reason why he kept coming here in the anniversary of his master's death eluded him. Yet, it was now almost a tradition. Of course, the alcohol –incoherent as it may seem- did not served the purpose of making him forget, but of making him remember. _

_He swirled the contents idly. Though he had been tempted more than once to drink past the limit of his tolerance, the voice of reason had always been successfully in halting his hand. The discipline built by his job was not something he could, unfortunately, turn off. _

"_Infinite in mystery is the gift of the goddess. We seek it thus, and take to the sky. Ripples form on the water's surface. The wandering soul knows no rest."_

_Sephiroth turned towards the voice, knowing full well who was approaching him. To his surprise, he found Genesis alone rather than with Angeal by his side. _

"_LOVELESS, Act I," Genesis finished, closing the book he always carried around, and taking the stool beside him unceremoniously. _

"_Hmph," Sephiroth smirked in acknowledgment, before turning to face again his glass. _

_After a short pause, Genesis spoke, "How many are you capable of drinking?" _

_Sephiroth frowned at the odd question coming out from the poet beside him. Genesis was looking at him solemnly, an almost imperceptible twinkle of excitement flashing in his mako eyes._

"_Can I help you with something, Genesis?" he enquired, giving him barely half of his attention with the sole purpose of irritating him. _

_Sephiroth quirked an eyebrow when, instead of annoyance, he noted a quirking in Genesis' lips that resulted in the beginning of a smile._

"_I bet I could drink more than you can, hero," he stated cockily, the mild envy with which he'd spoken the last word did not go unnoticed. _

_Sephiroth knew this was childish and, therefore, undeserving of both his attention and time. However, he couldn't just ignore Genesis –much as he wanted to. Perhaps it had to do with what the day represented. Or maybe, it was just the way Genesis had smirked, which prompted his reason to be pushed aside by his confusing feelings. _

_Then again, he'd drunken a fair amount of alcohol by that time... _

"_Accepted," Sephiroth said, shoving what remained of his drink down his throat. _

_Genesis' smile widened considerably as fire burned furiously in his eyes. "Bartender!" he called, and when the man approached them, he asked, "How many drinks has he had?"_

_The bartender thought about that for a minute, "That's his third Caipiroshka."_

_The redheaded nodded, "Alright. Bring me three Caipiroshkas."_

_The bartender looked wearily from the smiling man to the smirking one. Perhaps he could already smell the trouble? After a second, though, he shrugged in defeat and began preparing the drinks._

"_Jus' don't go causing no problems, lads," the man grumbled._

_Sephiroth waved a hand rather lazily and reassured, "We wouldn't dream of it." _

"_Relax, good sir!" Genesis said. Then, turning to Sephiroth he instructed, "We'll start after I drink three Caipiroshkas. I don't wish for you to make excuses after I beat you." _

_Sephiroth shrugged indifferently, "Fine by me."_

_The bartender, still glancing at them with suspicion, placed three glasses before the redheaded. He rumbled something below his breath, as he watched Genesis downing the drinks hastily. _

_After that, they asked for a variety of different drinks in order to make the contest much more 'interesting'. What happened next was pretty much too embarrassingly stupid for Sephiroth's mind to conceive. He recalled, however, that they had kept on asking for drinks and drinking them as quickly as they could. A crowd had eventually gathered around them, but they were oblivious to it as they concentrated entirely on the petty contest. _

_Between drinks, he later learned, they had begun a heated discussion of the meaning of LOVELESS' acts. Sephiroth was just glad he didn't remember reciting the damn poem! _

_Why couldn't he remember? Well, he guessed the alcohol must have taken a handsome toll on his mind by that time. Though he did not pass out, he remembered what followed in confusing fragments. But since Genesis remembered nothing of it, Sephiroth had swiftly claimed the uncontested victory to their game. _

_Angeal, thankfully, had arrived sometime after their inhibitions and their coordination had been destroyed by the alcohol in their systems. Rather irritated, Sephiroth recalled blurrily that the man had dragged them back to the ShinRa building. _

_Naturally, before taking them to their rooms, he had pushed them inside the bathroom facilities –careful not to be seen by any of their superiors. There, Angeal had unceremoniously slumped each on one toilet as Genesis' and Sephiroth's bodies - rather pathetically- began shoving everything back out their aching throats. _

_Angel, to his credit, had stayed all night with them. He had moved from one to the other, putting cold towels on the back of their necks and rubbing their backs absently but quite soothingly. It didn't matter how many times they messed things up, Angel was always there to help them pull themselves together. _

_Sephiroth would have probably remembered the man as an angel, had he not decided to punish them later on. The very next day, Angeal -ignoring their mumbled protests for silence- had made them sit down and listen to his extensive lecture about a SOLDIER's honor. _

_That became the first and last time him and Genesis got drunk. It was not so much due to the pain produced by the hangover –though that was certainly not something he wished to feel again. No. What had made them decide on this, was never wanting to hear another one of Angeal's lectures while being hangover. It simply doubled the effect of wanting to die right at that moment.* _

**Sephiroth Crescent **smiled at the memory and realized something quite surprising, but not very unexpected.

Truth was, he missed them both. A lot.

Yes, even the redheaded, cocky poet had been fun to be around.

A groan coming Tifa, followed by the brisk movement of her flipping to her stomach and puking in the bucket he'd left there, brought him back to reality.

Sephiroth moved towards her silently and offered a glass of water. She took it –her eyes still glazed- and rinsed her mouth. She looked at him as he retrieved the glass, her eyes quizzical but unfocused.

"Why're yo' helpin' me?" she asked.

Before he could come up with a good answer, she was fast asleep again.

Sephiroth refilled the glass with water and placed it on her bedside table. It seemed to him that this was going to be a long night.

Moving back to his post, he took a seat and –instead of concentrating on the past or the future- he decided best to stay in the present. Thus, he watched her as she slept; hearing the gentle sound of her breathing weaving a soothing melody.

As he studied her, he realized after a while that a sense of peace had invaded him. He felt -in that particular time and place- neither perturbed about the past nor afraid of the probable future. No. Sephiroth felt -simply put- at peace. And it felt so odd because –hard as he tried- he could not remember the last time he'd ever felt like this.

The feeling was very... 'refreshing'.

**-o0o-**

**Tifa Lockhart** cracked her eyes open hesitantly. A groan escaped her dry lips as her throbbing head reminded her of the consequences of abusing alcohol.

As the things around her slowly came into focus, she noticed that her room was filled with natural light which meant that it was probably late morning. When she recognized the familiar surroundings, a question immediately popped into her head.

How had she gotten to her room?

She frowned, probing her brain in search for an answer, when the sound of someone moving in her room distracted her. Now 'that' was _not_ normal. No one should have been inside the house but her…

Turning calmly to where the sound had originated, she found a figure standing up from the chair he'd placed on the dimmest corner of her room. The black cloak was still present and so was –she noted with disappointment- the hood.

Wait… what was he doing here? Had he stayed here to look after her?

"You stayed," she voiced between surprise, gratefulness and confusion. He certainly owed her nothing. Any other man would have probably taken advantage of the situation but –peeking swiftly below the blankets- she could clearly see he hadn't.

He nodded curtly in answer, leaning on his dark cane. She could see an amused smirk playing on his lips, probably born after she'd inspected her body. She blushed at that.

Suddenly, bits and pieces of the previous night flashed through her head. She groaned and covered the intensifying-by-the-second blush of her face with her hands. Shiva! She had said so many embarrassing things! What would he think of her?

"I'm sorry," she said, cracking an opening between her fingers to measure his reaction, "I am _so_ sorry… I usually... I am so embarrassed by my be—"

"I have to go," he interrupted, strolling towards the door with a small smile on his lips. "Will you be alright?"

Her hands fell to her lap. Tifa chewed on her lower lip unconsciously, before putting on an uncertain smile. Had he interrupted her to help her out or was he just not interested? She seriously hoped it had to do with the first option.

"I'll be fine, thank you," she reassured, and quickly added, "I really am very sorry if I caused you trouble."

The man shrugged once, dismissing her apology with the action, "Drink that for the hangover. Friend's recipe."

She followed his finger and found a glass -filled with pale, thick-looking contents- sitting on her bedside table.

The sound of his boot connecting with the wooden floor made her refocus her attention on him.

"Wait!" she called before he had crossed the threshold.

The figure stopped and turned half-way towards her in silent query. She bit her lip nervously and lowered her gaze to her fidgeting hands.

"Will I see you tonight?" She asked the question trying to hold the plea that tingled in the tip of her tongue from being heard.

There was a small pause before his voice –that beautiful, velvety voice- answered. "Probably," he said, before disappearing out the door. A couple of minutes later, she heard the sound of the front door opening and then closing again.

Tifa sat there for a while, trying to ignore her headache as she attempted to recall as many things as possible. There was something that kept nagging at her. Something which she could feel was important but which she could not quite remember. It had something to do with her customer's cane. _How odd…_

Giving up, she shrugged the thought away and sipped at the drink he'd left for her. Her eyes widened when she tasted the mouth-watering flavor. It was a banana milkshake sweetened with honey! Even after a single gulp, she was already feeling better!

Maybe this day was not going to be as catastrophic as she thought. Well, frankly it really all depended on whether the man showed up tonight or not. So with all her broken heart, Tifa hoped he would.

**To be Continued…**

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**AN: **Well, chapter was pretty much centered on giving you an idea of the background of this story –or rather, to give you some more insight of the Sephiroth in this story. The next chapter will have a lot more interactions between the two characters, so fear not.

Anyways, don't forget to **review**!


	5. Enemy or Ally?

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any of its characters. I am just burrowing them for a while.

**Author's notes: **Hope you enjoy! Please do not forget to **review**!

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"_Using power or being used by power… is that not a problem of the heart…?"_

_-Citan (Xenogears)-_

"**One Winged Angels"**

By: FenixPhoenix

**Chapter 5: "Enemy or Ally?"**

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**Tifa Lockhart** glanced at the ticking clock for the tenth time that night. Eleven o'clock. Had the stupid thing broken? If not, then why was it running so frigging slow!

She shook her head irritated by her nervousness. Leaning on the counter, she was glad to have a few minutes to herself when no more drinks were being ordered.

Four days ago, the man who invaded every waking thought was no one and she could hardly believe that now. She wasn't particularly sure when she'd begun to wait with impatience for her midnight visitor's arrival. She knew it had not started today, though it would made sense if it had (given his actions of the previous night and the following morning). But fact remain that it hadn't. It had happened before that. Maybe it had even happened the moment he had left her bar that first night.

Frankly, it didn't matter because, in the end, one thing was for certain. She waited for him. That was the unavoidable truth. Tifa waited for him in between fear and excitement. Fear that he would not show up –especially after the troubles she must have caused him- and excitement because she wondered if she would find out something new about him.

But why did he interest her so? She knew her curiosity had probably tripled from the moment he had demonstrated he'd understood the silent message behind the song she'd played. However, it had not initiated there.

So then, what had he done that had entranced her so completely? Perhaps it was the fact that he was never late and the odd hour he had chosen as his cue to arrive. Or maybe it had to do with the way he wore his cloak, shadowing half his face with the dark hood that allowed her only to admire his strong jaw and soft-looking lips.

It didn't matter which detail had first caught her eye, since 'everything' about him eventually made her wonder. But what troubled her now was a particular 'unknown'. One she could not stop thinking about since the moment he had stepped out of her house that morning.

Would he come tonight? When she had asked him, he had responded with a vague 'probably'. However, she was sure he had gotten little to no sleep last night. Perhaps he would be too tired. Maybe he would just sleep and ignore the fact that she really wanted to see him –if he had even noticed her eagerness in the first place.

"Teef, somethin' wron'?" Rosie asked, placing a hand on her shoulder and looking at her slightly concerned.

Tifa shook her head once and smiled reassuringly, "Oh, sorry. I'm fine."

The waitress' lips broke into a smile, and she gave Tifa a look that silently stated _'ah, I know what's wrong'_.

"What?" Tifa demanded, already feeling a blush creeping to her cheeks.

"Somethin' happened last night with our midnight customer?" she asked in a whisper, leaning towards Tifa and giggling in her ear.

Despite the embarrassment produced by the implication, laugher erupted past the lips of the martial artist. A wide smile replaced the frown she'd been wearing as Tifa turned to her friend.

"Something did happened, but it's not what you think, Rosie," she said, fixing an expression of mocking mortification.

Rosie shrugged, "Too bad. I was hopin' you could tell me what he looks like without the friggin' hood."

Tifa sighed. Indeed, what she wouldn't give to— The central clock of Edge chimed the hour and Tifa, her mind now completely blank, turned to the door holding her breath and waiting. The sound of the bells died, and a second afterwards, the door was pulled open.

She let go of the breath she had been unwilling to release as her customer –after a silent nod her way- limped his way to what she'd come to refer as 'his booth'. In silence, his fingers put out the flame before he relaxed into his seat –his guard, however, still present.

Unable to fight the happiness that this event produced, she strolled towards him with a broad smile on her face. When she was closer, she idly wondered if he had slept at all. "Hey, same as usual?" she asked, already feeling a sense of familiarity settling between them.

He smirked, nodded his approval but said nothing else. At this unexpected turn, Tifa cursed herself. Had she known they would revert to curt replies, she would have waited for him to at least order!

_Nothing I can do about that now,_ she thought bitterly, realizing that alongside frustration there was a sense of disappointment filling her. She had seriously believed that after last night things would change and he would be willing to speak with her –to, maybe even open up and share some of his secrets.

Giving him a less broad smile, she spun on her heels but froze in place when she heard him.

"Feeling better?"

Her dwindling smile recovered its force as she turned halfway towards him. Shiva, she felt like a stupid adolescent! Butterflies where dancing in her stomach, and she was having a hard time trying not dance in victory.

So things _had_ changed between them after all! "I feel great thanks to you and your incredible drink," she replied, winking an eye at him.

The victory song Cid had come up with -and played with his PHS after every battle- sounded inside her head when she saw his smirk slowly becoming an unguarded smile. She didn't know why, but the fact that she had made him smile felt like an achievement worth remembering.

He nodded curtly once and said, "Good to hear."

Trying not to openly gape at his beautiful smile, she went to fix his order. She had his drink done in seconds (having already retrieved the ingredients and setting them on the counter shortly before he arrived).

When she was back beside him, she couldn't help but point something out. "Caipiroshka. That was a popular drink for SOLDIERs back when Midgar was not a pile of rubble," she said, eyeing him in search of a reaction.

His lips quirk into a smirk that –for some reason- seemed bittersweet; nostalgic and yet filled with regret. "I was an ex-SOLDIER," he confided with a blank tone.

That made her raised her eyebrows in surprise. So then she had been right in that department! He had been in SOLDIER…_Wait does this mean… Did he met…Cloud? _No! Tifa didn't really want to go there. It was better to leave him out of the conversation.

"Do you… regret it? I mean, I'm guessing your limp has something to do with you being in SOLDIER, right?" she pointed out.

The sense of melancholy disappeared, leaving only a bitter smirk on its wake. "I suppose… Yes, I was crippled when in SOLDIER," he responded vaguely.

Tifa frowned. Normally, the man responded using as few words as possible. Taking this into account, she had asked the question in a matter that would enable him to answer with a monosyllabic answer or a movement of his head. Yet instead, he'd rephrased her question in vaguer terms.

What did this mean? Had SOLDIER crippled him in more areas than just his leg? After learning this piece of his past, however, she couldn't keep her curiosity at bay any longer. So, after only a moment of hesitation, she asked one of the many questions her mind had repeatedly entertained ever since that first time she'd seen him.

"Say, can I ask you a personal question?"

He tilted his head slightly to one side. When he remained quiet, she decided best to take that as a sign that she could. Otherwise, he would have at least shaken his head in denial, right? Yes, her logic was dead on!

"How long have you been living in Edge?"

"I moved recently," he deadpanned.

She felt her lips quirking a bit at how efficient were his words. Now he was back to what she expected of him. He never did seem to be one to waste saliva, save for the former answer. Nevertheless, this answer led to another question she could not keep quiet –not that she really tried to begin with.

"Why?" she blurted, and when he tilted his head, she elaborated, "Why did you come here? I mean… there's nothing here."

The bitter smirk switched into his signature lopsided smirk that taunted her with the possibility of juicy secrets held at bay, "I am searching."

Tifa's eyebrows rose, interest growing by the second, "Searching…?"

He nodded and she fought the urge to sigh with sudden exasperation. Why was this man being so difficult! Did he enjoy making her suffer by giving her cryptic answers?

"Searching for what?" she prompted when he'd remained silent, swirling the contents of his glass. Even if she couldn't see his eyes, she could bet her entire bar on the fact that his orbs must have been filled with amusement.

Before he could answer -and to Tifa's irritation- the door of her bar was thrown open quite briskly. The loud noise made her reluctantly switch her attention towards the entrance in time to see a bull of a man -with two thug-looking companions- strolling inside as though they owned the place.

Tifa sighed. She could recognize trouble with a glance and these were unwelcomed guests. However, she knew that if she were to ask the –already swaying- men to leave, a brawl would ensure. Perhaps she should consider hiring a bouncer after all? Though she was sure –if it became unavoidable- that she could take them, she was also aware that she would be extending an invitation to all troublemakers to try their luck at beating one of the revered heroes of Gaia.

Odin struck her! Being famous wasn't always fun…

From the corner of her eyes, she saw a pale-looking Rosie walking to them. Tifa made her way towards the waitress briskly, intercepting her before she got in harm's way.

"I've got this, Rosie," she told her, smiling at the look of utter relief that filled the dark eyes of her friend. Rosie was an excellent waitress, but Tifa knew these men would be too much for her to handle.

Hence, fixing a fake smile on her face, she proceeded in making her way towards the threesome who had taken a seat in one of the central tables.

"What can I get you?" she asked, almost flinching at the smell of them. They reeked of alcohol and sweat –two aromas that didn't mixed very well. Now, Tifa knew she should just send them home. Normally, that was the right choice. A bartender had the right to refuse to serve someone that seemed to have past his limit of alcoholic tolerance.

However, Tifa had been working in this for too long to recognize when said strategy would only make things worse. Having accepted that, she resolved to serve them one drink and then she would –as politely as possible- convince them to leave.

"A round of beers, baby," said the biggest of them, not even attempting to hide the fact that he was already undressing her with his eyes.

Tifa fought the disgust the mere thought of that produced as she walked away. What she wouldn't give to be able to wipe those wolfish grins off of their faces! As she was filling the glasses with beer, however, she heard Rosie gasping, followed by sneers and the sound of glass shattering on the floor. Already having an idea of what was happening, Tifa whirled around taking premium hearts from one of the compartments on the counter and slipping them on.

Sure enough, she was right. One of the newcomers had pulled Rosie into his lap and was laughing as she tried to squirm away, fighting the hands that wished to feel her up. In less than ten seconds, Tifa was beside said man with a murderous look on her face.

"I advise you to take your hands off of her," she threatened coldly.

The man turned to her and quirked an eyebrow amused, "Oh, you jealous, baby?"

That did it! If there was one thing that could block the voice of peaceful reason, it was having someone she cared about being harmed –emotionally or physically. Hence, just when the man's grin became wider, Tifa punched him squarely on the face.

Tifa's punch had been so strong, that the she had thrown the aggravating man back, with chair and all. Subsequently, a river of adrenaline pumped through her veins as –making sure Rosie was out of the way- she waited for the brown-haired man's visceral retaliation.

Naturally, the fallen man –blushing when he heard his companions jeering at him- regained his feet with fire in his eyes. He didn't look quite as drunk as she had expected, and she wondered –for a split second- if he had been faking it.

Tossing the question out of her mind, Tifa tilted her head in a silent taunt. She hated these kinds of guys and was always too eager to put them in place. Since she couldn't openly use words to entice him into fighting her -else she would get in trouble with the WRO-, she did the only thing she knew would set him on edge. She smirked and tilted her head up so that she was now looking down at him, silently claiming superiority with the action.

That seemed to fuel his rage as he launched an extremely bad-timed attack. Tifa felt disappointment filling her as she danced around the man, mocking him by not taking him seriously. But how could she? With ease, she kept avoiding his weak punches and lame kicks, landing one of her owns after every two of his failed attempts.

Cheers erupted from her customers, making the fury of her opponent burst into a maddening rage. The man hurled his body at her, his hand fisted and ready to deliver pain. Tifa's jaw clenched in increasing frustration. She seriously did not wish to harm him. So far, she had been attacking his feet and sending him to the ground in hopes that he would give up without her having to break one of his limbs. However, she knew she had to end this soon.

Why? It was simple, really. Usually having a fight in a bar filled with a good number of drunken people meant one thing. A full-scale fight! Her brawl –if not stopped soon- would ensure a domino effect that would have grave consequences not only to her furniture but also to her people!

So, when the man regained his feet for the fourth time, she punched him in the face with enough force, so as to knock him down without –she hoped- doing any permanent damage to his brain. Shiva knew his brain hardly worked as it was...

This was the second attack that landed on his face and she was glad –when he stayed on the ground- that it would be the last. KO. The man was knocked out cold! It seemed to her that even with the lack of practice, she had not lost her skill.

By the time she had finished, however, the noise was so loud, that she failed to hear the sound of nearby chairs moving. She knew the man's companions had risen to help him, only when she saw a blurry blotch moving from the corner of her eyes. Spinning around quickly, she braced herself for an attack that never came.

Instantly, all noise stopped, as if swollen by the planet itself, leaving the music as the only sound filling the atmosphere. What could have produced such a change? Frowning with uncertainty, she lowered the arms she had risen to cover her face. Tifa's wine eyes widened at the sight that met her.

Her midnight customer was, by now, sitting on the table between the two men, completely oblivious to the murderous glares sent his way. The drunken men, for their part, were angrily trying to dislodge the knives that had caught their sleeves to the surface of the table. Yet, hard as they pulled, the knives refused to budge.

Calmly, her midnight customer spoke, his question directed at a slacked-jaw Rosie who must have seen what Tifa hadn't. "How much?" he asked her, pointing at the mess on the floor.

Rosie's eyes jumped from the man to the drunken animals and to the floor before responding, "T-two hundred gil."

The ex-SOLDIER nodded and, turning to the man who seemed to be the leader of the bunch, he ordered, "Pay up."

The leader sneered at him while trying to take out the sharp knife. When he finally managed to do it, however, her midnight customer–with godlike speed- raised his cane and brought it down on the recently released arm of the drunken leader.

The man yelped in pain, his fingers releasing the knife in reaction. Her midnight customer, undaunted, exercised more pressure on the cane as he repeated his petition smoothly.

"Pay up, damn it!" the leader yelled to his companion, fighting the tears produced by what could only be a broken wrist. The third man –who was still trying to work the knife out of his sleeve- quickly tossed all of his money onto the table.

The ex-SOLDIER released the pressure, stood up serenely, dislodge –with ease- the knife the other couldn't, and politely ask them to leave. The two pale-looking figures were quick to do just that –dragging the knocked out body of their friend out the door.

Tifa watched with awe as he retrieved his knives and brushed Rosie's words of thanks with a nod. In his signature silence, he returned to his place in the last booth as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

As the night progressed, Tifa couldn't stop thinking about what he'd done. The cloaked man must have considerable strength and speed to be able to deal with those two troublemakers so easily. Well, he had confided he'd been in SOLDIER, which could explain a lot, but still… she wondered…

When she brought his third drink, she said, "Your drinks are on the house today."

He smirked at that, "You should consider hiring a bouncer."

She smiled, placing her hands on the edge of his table before leaning slightly towards him, "You interested?"

He smiled, sipped at her drink but didn't answer.

_Well, it was worth a shot_, she reasoned, allowing a soft sigh to escape her lips. Feeling between disappointed and excited by all that had happen, she continued working with a smile on her face –though her thoughts revolved only around him. Restlessly, she waited for the bar to empty in order to be left alone with the curious man drinking in the darkest corner of the room.

A quarter before closing time, the bar was empty save for Tifa, Bernard, Rosie and the midnight man.

"Teef, will you be alright?" asked Rosie as she prepared to leave, Bernard was already waiting for her by the door. Tifa smiled at her reassuringly. She hated to see Rosie so scared. The poor woman was still shaking by the whole experience and Tifa knew she would soon be hearing about her resignation.

She couldn't blame her, but that didn't mean she liked it. Nonetheless, the possibility that she might stay was there, and Tifa refused to not take that into consideration as she bid the woman goodnight.

Sighing, Tifa strolled towards her last customer. He was still drinking in his booth when she began cleaning one of the tables beside his. Odin, she felt like asking so many things…

_Wait a second…,_ she gasped as she realized that their last conversation had been interrupted in its climax. "So… You never did tell me. What are you searching for, ex-SOLDIER?" she asked, emphasizing the last word in hopes that he would provide her with his name.

When he didn't answer, she turned to look at him and leaned back on the table, her arms by her side in a pose that she knew was not so innocent. For some reason, she didn't care.

"I live for revenge," he said.

Tifa perked up slightly at that, feeling chills running down her back at the unemotional tone he'd used. The man, however, continued unperturbed as he regained his feet and slowly shortened the distance between them.

"But I am searching for redemption," he added, leaning closer to her and whispering almost tenderly in her ear, "We have all sinned and we all wish for forgiveness, Tifa Lockhart."

She forgot how to breathe as she concentrated solely on their sudden closeness. His lips had even brushed softly the shell of the ear in which he'd whisper that strange message. Then, as quickly as he had closed the distance, he retreated.

The unmistakable sound of coins tinkling against the surface of the table destroyed her dazed state. Tifa's eyebrows met in a frown when, one look behind her showed that, sure enough, he'd tossed some coins when he'd leaned towards her.

"Hey!" she called, and she was happy to see he did stop to turn to her in silent query, much like he had done in her house that very morning. Hurriedly, she retrieved the gil and walked towards him, offering it back to him as she reminded, "I told you that your drinks were on the house."

His lips quirked again into that killer smirk, "That's for the table."

She frowned, "What table?"

In answer she watched as he strolled towards the central table the troublemakers had used. Without a word, he raised his cane and brought it down. The action seemed effortless and not very powerful. Yet, the table fell apart! The wounds his knives had left had cracked to both sides when his cane had touched the wooden surface. The pieces left behind gave testament to the strength he had used when he'd lodged the blades on the men's sleeves.

Tifa was so engrossed by the rubble at her feet that she barely registered when he'd begun walking towards the door. Only when he opened it, did she manage to snap out of her stupor.

"Hey… did you find it?" she asked, not knowing why she'd chosen to ask that from all the questions now piling in her head.

His hand was still on the doorknob but he turned to her clearly confused.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" she repeated.

His lips quirked slightly, "I'm on the right track."

And with that he left, melting into the darkness from whence he'd came.

**-o0o-**

**Sephiroth Crescent** shrugged off his cloak and went directly to his room in absolute silence. His mind was occupied by so many different things.

He'd told her a lot today, more than he'd planned. Yet, the strange thing was that he didn't regret it. Quite the contrary, her eager disposition had almost made him share the whole of his past with her. He was just glad that the voice of reason had spoken in time to stop him from blowing up his cover.

She was still not ready to hear who he was and, for some reason, that thought bothered him more than it should. Fact was, he was confused by her actions and his reactions. It was simply odd how he felt whenever she smiled at him. It was such an open gesture of building affection that he couldn't keep from smiling back. At the same time, however, he knew that even if those smiles were directed at him, they were truly not _for_ him.

"Hmph, I know better than that," he mumbled to himself, as he slowly began to strip in the darkness he'd come to cherish and despise.

Indeed, those smiles were not for Sephiroth. She smiled instead to his other persona. She smiled to this man who arrived at midnight and quietly disappeared after spending some time in her bar. But that person was also him! So should he therefore consider those smiles also as gifts for him, Sephiroth Crescent?

How queer this feelings until now unknown! It was almost as though he was rediscovering himself. As if he had been born again and had to get used to things that everybody took for granted. Sure, he'd felt things when he'd been with Angel, Zack and Genesis. He'd even felt a sense of love, loyalty and respect towards Masamune, the man who'd thought him about fighting and protecting, among other things. However, what he felt towards Tifa was something different and completely new.

She interested him in a different way and in such an intense level, that she unknowingly made him want to know more about her. Could it be that these feelings could only be developed towards women? It would make sense if it was, given that he had been isolated in that department. ShinRa and, especially Hojo, had made it a point for him to interact with females as little as possible so as not to develop petty 'feelings' towards them.

How had they described it? Ah yes, they'd concluded that women made men lose their minds. Therefore, it was better to keep minimum contact with them so as to remain the best had been categorized for him, Genesis and Angeal by ShinRa's high supervisors. There were those used to satisfy their physical needs (never the same woman twice and talking was strictly prohibited). Then, there were those who worked for ShinRa (scientists, doctors, etc). Though there were even female Turks, he'd been given few missions with them, and their relationship was always cold and distant, revolving only around work.

Yes. They'd made sure to keep their highly-classified experiments as void of feelings as possible. That was especially true for him since, contrary to his two companions, he hadn't even been given a proper childhood or at least a caring family.

He smirked bitterly. He even had the scars to prove it.

Sephiroth cracked his neck and –after putting on a pair of baggy sweat pants- he laid sprawled on his bed. He was too tired to try to figure things out right now. The temptation of sleep was hard to ignore. Nevertheless, Sephiroth always ended up hesitating whenever he was about to close his eyes. The idea that Jenova would find him and take control of his mind again was something that was particularity troubling when he was about to succumb into that vulnerable state.

But today he couldn't even bring himself to remember his fear. He hadn't slept at all last night, and he felt it in both his body and mind. Not to mention, he hadn't had a goodnight rest ever since he'd return to life. Thus, before he knew it, Sephiroth was soundly asleep. His mind –unable to stop working- played images of Tifa moving through her bar with a grace that mesmerized him.

After some time that felt cruelly short, the peaceful images of Seventh Heaven shattered before his very eyes. In its stead, he found himself looming just above the lifestream. A look around him showed that this was the same place where he'd talked with Minerva not long ago.

"Goddess," a voice called with profound reverence.

Sephiroth's eyes widened when he recognized the sound and he spun around in time to see Genesis there. He was standing in all his glory, the degradation he'd been condemned to live and die with was no longer present.

"…Genesis," Sephiroth called, but the man seemed not to hear him as his eyes remained glued to something else.

"Genesis, your time has come to pay your debt to the planet," Minerva's voice informed.

Sephiroth turned around and sure enough the Goddess was there. He frowned when his mind registered her words. What the hell were they talking about? Was this even real?

"I am but the planet's humble servant. I will do as commanded," Genesis responded, disappearing shortly after that.

As Sephiroth's eyes switched to the only other figure there, he realized Minerva was now looking directly at him. Slowly, she nodded once his way as if in greetings or acceptance. Before he could ask some questions of his own, he found himself falling again into an endless pit of darkness.

He woke with a drumming heart and labored breathing. To him, the dream seemed to have lasted a few minutes. Yet, one look at the clock hanging on his wall showed that he had slept almost the entire day! It was already almost ten o'clock!

Slowly, he massaged his sore muscles before proceeding to take a shower while he tried to make sense of what he'd seen. If his dream had been something more than an abstract message conjured by his inner self, then did it mean Genesis was alive and well? Did it mean that he would be one of the 'chosen' Minerva had promised to send to their aid?

He leaned on the wall, allowing the hot stream of water to crash on his neck and traveled down his back in soothing streams. Working with Genesis produced some unusual feeling within him. There was the expected excitement, but what was different was that happiness he felt. It was happiness and relief mixed together. Just what you would feel when something you had taken for granted was suddenly taken away from you and then abruptly returned.

Yes. He would never ever admit it, but truth was he'd missed the idiotic poet that was Genesis.

At eleven thirty, still trying to decipher what the significance of his curious dream was, Sephiroth left for Tifa's bar.

**-o0o-**

**Tifa Lockhart** peeped at the clock. _Still half an hour to go before he arrives,_ she said to herself, placing a hand on her furious heart as if to calm it down.

She was not sure why she was feeling so anxious tonight. She only knew that she was. It was almost as though her instincts were reacting to a baseless sense of trepidation. Surely, nothing could happen, right? AVALANCHE had already dealt with everyone that needed dealing with…

_It's nothing, _she told herself, whishing she could put more conviction into her thoughts.

"Teef?" Rosie placed a hand on her shoulder, effectively drawing her back to reality.

Tifa smiled and nodded to her. She was beyond glad when she'd seen Rosie arriving today with her usual smile. She was even happier to learn that she had not even thought once about quitting her job.

The bells on the door chimed and Tifa turned to the entrance confused. It was eleven thirty when in strolled a black-cloaked man wearing a hood. She frowned confused. This was not right. He was supposed to arrive at midnight, wasn't he?

Her breath hitched when she realized something very unsettling. Sure, the figure 'looked' like her midnight customer except for the fact that he didn't limp. He didn't even have a cane!

A gasp from one of the customers accentuated her frown. Yes. Something wasn't right… The man was neither walking to his booth nor doing the other things that composed his never-changing routine. What the hell was going on?

Tifa's wine eyes studied the figure that remained standing passively near the door. When he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, her eyes widened. Tifa knew she must have paled a couple of shades.

"No… This can't be!" She mumbled, her hands instinctively reaching for premium hearts.

The newcomer had neither said nor done anything. He had not taken off his hood or unbuttoned the long cloak that hid his body. Yet, she needed nothing else than what he'd shown so far, for her to know exactly who he was.

There was only one man in Gaia who would be able to wield such a long sword. And if there was something she could recognize at a first glance was the blade of the man who had killed her father and Aerith. The same blade that had wounded her, Cloud and some of her friends! With all her aching heart, she hated that blade almost as much as she hated its owner. 'Masamune'… that was its cursed name.

Tifa gulped, feeling her throat as dry as a desert, and wondered if this was truly her end. She stepped around the counter carefully, thanking Barret for having taken the children.

"Teef?" Rosie's voice made her heart drum even faster.

Would Sephiroth attack them? Could she save them? Would she fail them?

The figure shed the hood and cloak when his mako eyes locked with hers. His lips parted into that evil smile she had come to know so well. She heard gasps escaping her customers when they realized just who'd stepped into the bar.

Of course, they didn't know what she knew. To them, Sephiroth was a famous first class SOLDIER who'd been lost in action. But Tifa knew better!

"Everyone, leave. Now!" she yelled, cursing when they remained on their seats, gazing with open awe at the devil that destroyed her hometown.

Before Tifa could repeat her petition, the four windows of her bar broke simultaneously as four figures suddenly jumped inside. They were dressed in a black uniform that reminded her of the third-class SOLDIERs' wardrobe.

Where they Sephiroth's soldiers? Had part of ShinRa joined him in his crusade to destroy the world for a second time?

Tifa stood quite still as she tried to gather as much information as possible. She fisted her hands and relaxed them again and again as she tried to calm her nerves. Reluctantly, she moved her attention from the passive Sephiroth to the four SOLDIERs. It was then she noted something so peculiar, she did not know what to make of it. The SOLDIERs were not looking at her. Instead, their attention seemed to be stolen by Sephiroth, who'd yet to acknowledge them. Their guards were up and they seemed to be ready to attack.

But who had they been ordered to attack? Would the SOLDIERs attack him or her? Where they her allies or her foes?

_What's going on? _She asked herself as she waited with painful tension for someone to make the first move.

**To be Continued… **

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**Story's Notes: **Just to let you know, I have no idea who's Sephiroth master is. They never did say anything about who trained Sephiroth in the game, so I am creating this piece of his past. Masamune just seemed like a fine name, especially since that is what he calls his sword.

**AN:** Please do not forget to **review**.


	6. Tough Decision

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any of its characters. I am just burrowing them for a while.

**Author's notes: **Oh my, thank you very much for the reviews, guys. I was hoping for ten and I got fifteen so that's enough to keep me happy. For those wondering when Genesis will be appearing. I believe he will appear in around three to four chapters. However, I may write some scenes from his point of view before that time.

Also, since I couldn't reply to the anonymous reviews, I would still like to thank them. So thank you: _CNome, Kyas, Anonymus1, Anonymous 2, Caz and Anon3_.

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"_Out of suffering emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars."_

_-Kahlil Gibran-_

"**One Winged Angels"**

By: FenixPhoenix

**Chapter 6: "Tough Choice"**

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**Tifa** **Lockhart** held her breath in frightful expectation as she returned her attention to the figure that had singlehandedly destroyed her life. Around them, none dared move as tension settled between her and her unwelcomed guests.

"Teef… what's goin' on?" Though Rosie's voice was hushed, it still sounded too loud for comfort at that particular moment.

The martial artist's muscles tensed painfully, when Sephiroth's predatory gaze switched from her to the unsure waitress. Tifa was unable to unlock her eyes from the silver-haired devil -much as she wanted to reassure Rosie- and despite attempting to say something soothing to her, her lips remained pressed together.

Slowly, as if to make the moment as nightmarish as possible, Sephiroth's lips parted into that same cruel smile he'd worn when he'd stood within the flames of Nibelheim. Sweat -thick and vexing- slipped down her forehead and to the sides of her face in reaction. Her palms were by now moist underneath the leather fabric of the gloves she had come to relied on.

_Would you fail me this time_? She wondered concerned. For the sake of everyone, she seriously hoped they didn't. "Rosie," she called at last, trying hard to keep her voice from shaking unsuccessfully, "Listen…you need to get out of here."

"But Teef-"

"Everyone…! You all need to get out!" Tifa yelled. Much to her increasing distress, however, everyone remained on their seats, their eyes jumping from her to Sephiroth to the black-dressed SOLDIERs. In one last attempt to save them, she resorted to pleading, "Please…please get out…!"

Still, no one paid her heed and she knew –even before Sephiroth moved- that it was too late. Odin saved them now, the devil was about to unleash hell in their heaven!

With a broad grin, Sephiroth, sword in hand, raised his arm, pointing the tip of his sharp blade in her direction. She understood it was a signal for action when she saw the SOLDIERs shifting and realized –hope shattered mercilessly- that she was their appointed enemy.

"It's too late," Tifa whispered, feeling her eyes aching with tears of overwhelming impotence. Wordlessly, she signaled Rosie to stand aside as Tifa stepped towards the awaiting SOLDIERs, wishing to steal their undivided attention.

When she was close enough to earn their attention, but still far enough to maintain a safe distance, she bent her knees slightly and fell into a fighting stance. She raised her gloved hands and –knowing there was no way to avoid the inevitable- she moved her fingers in a taunt for them to come at her.

The SOLDIERs needed no further invitation. Swords in hand, they jumped at her from different directions intent on killing her. She moved rapidly, evading the blades and retaliating instinctively. A pause or a second of hesitation would mean certain death. Minutes tickled by as she continued swaying in a dance made dangerous by the evil intention with which the participants moved –the gift of pain being offered readily by hissing blades.

Though her mind was engrossed by the battle she was waging, her eyes kept darting towards the strangely passive Sephiroth. Was there a reason why he was not attacking? Did he believe she would be beaten by these pawns?

For a second, the idea to attack him tempted her. Here stood the man who had murdered her father. Here smiled the man who had killed Aerith and had wounded Cloud emotionally, breaking him in such a way that –hard as she had tried- she'd been unable to mend him. Above all, here waited the terrifying demon that had almost destroyed the planet!

If there ever was an absolute truth in Tifa's mind, it was this: Sephiroth deserved nothing but a gruesome and painful death! This of course meant that it was true. That though she had often preached otherwise, she still craved vengeance. Tifa Lockhart had naively believed she had made amends with her past. She had thought she had forgiven –if not forgotten- fate for delivering such a cruel hand. But now… now that the devil was standing so close to her, she knew he needed to pay.

Naturally, the dread he inspired was still there, but it was now accompanied by a sense of earthly justice that resulted in a steaming fury. Steadily, her vehemence was overriding her sense of caution and making the idea of attacking him and winning not, only appealing, but also probable!

An aching feeling in her cheek snapped her off her dark musings of pain and death. She felt blood dripping down the wound and knew she needed to refocus in the present. In the foremost place, she needed to get rid of these SOLDIERs if she was to achieve handing the punishment the devil deserved for his sins.

One SOLDIER came at her, sword held high and ready. Tifa waited for him and, in the last possible second, she sidestepped, missing an arching blade by a fingernail. Instantly, she gripped the wrist of the SOLDIER and, without flinching, hit the back of his elbow with such force that the hard bone broke with a sickening 'crack'. The SOLDIER hissed in either pain or anger, she was not too sure. He stepped back, but his movement was not quick enough to avoid Tifa's roundhouse kick. Her leg connected with his head, sending him to the ground in a boneless heap. The man's helmet spun through the air to end up by the feet of the unanimated –but amused- Sephiroth.

Tifa gazed at the fallen figure as she tried to control her laborious breathing. Her eyes widened when –despite the signs of age- she recognized the figure of another first class Soldier who (before he'd gone missing in action) had been as famous as Sephiroth himself.

"What the hell…," she mumbled frowning as she tried to understand what this meant. Surely, this man couldn't be the renowned Genesis! He was too old and not as skilled as she would imagine a first class SOLDIER would be.

Before she could ponder about this oddity longer, she sensed the other three SOLDIERs moving in on her. She cursed when she felt a blade slashing at her lower back. The wound ached terribly but she knew it was shallow, her quick reflexes making her move forward before more damage could be taken.

As the fight progressed, Tifa eventually managed to dispatch the three remaining warriors. Yet, it was not a total victory. The effort had taken a handsome toll on her declining stamina and she wondered if she would be able to even pose a threat to the smiling fiend before her.

Unable to hide her tiredness, she bent forward -placing her hands on her knees- as she tried to bring forth energy that her body was not willing to relinquish. Least of all, in a battle that her mind claimed was impossible to win.

"Interesting," Sephiroth said, his grin widening madly as he gazed at her as though she was an exotic animal until now undiscovered.

Biting back a groan, Tifa straightened. She glared at him as she fell into a defensive stand, showing she was ready to take him on. Mere seconds after that, however, four new warriors made their way inside through the broken windows.

"This is ridiculous," she gasped, her hands balling into tight fists of frustration. Before the idea of having to fight these new adversaries sunk into her reluctant mind, one of the SOLDIERs lunged himself towards her. Tifa –taken aback by the sudden action- braced herself for the attack, having lost the energy to attempt avoiding it a while back.

Her jaw clenched and her eyes narrowed as she tried to come up with a way to stop him. The warrior was almost upon her when an unexpected figure came at him from his exposed flank.

It was Rosie!

The waitress, after letting out a sharp battle cry, broke a bottle of wine on the man's head. Yet, the thick helmet defended him from what would otherwise have been a knockout blow. Tifa's eyes widened when she realized what could only happen next.

The warrior moved his sword and, in an instant, Rosie crumbled with a bloody gash on her stomach. Flashes of a similar thing happening to her at the foot of Nibelheim's reactor danced to the forefront of her mind. A heated fury seized her, biting at her mind and prompting her body to release enough adrenaline to counterattack.

"BASTARD!" she yelled hoarsely, lunging herself at the man and attacking him with a lethal combination of punches and kicks. The warrior went down after her somersaulting thrust connected with the back of his head. He stood swaying on his feet for a second, before his entire body crumbled under her furious attack. His helmet rolled on the floor and Tifa frowned when she saw the man's face.

Was this even possible? This was also Genesis!

Laughter blew her confusion and awe away, and she focused on the pleased form of Sephiroth. The idea to attack him seemed not so tempting anymore. Tifa was drained of both strength and stamina after her last attack -a thing that marked her unavoidable demise at the hands of Sephiroth.

Regardless, she tried to bring her hands up in a defensive stand. Yet, her limbs weighted thrice as much -almost as if her bones had been filled with lead. She cursed viciously as her legs began to tremble, threatening to send her to the ground before her enemies. The thought of collapsing pathetically before the man she'd sworn to kill in order to avenge her father, was enough leverage to at least allow her to remain on her feet.

But for how long?

The three remaining SOLDIERs, unaffected by the death of their comrade, commenced their slow walk towards her. It was intimidating the way they moved, their faces hidden behind masks of steel stripping them of all humanity.

They were near now and Tifa could only think about how much she hated this! She hated the fact that she could not win, hard as she had tried. The sound of chairs moving signaled that her customers had had enough.

"Don't… ! Get out, all of you!" she insisted when she noticed they had taken chairs and bottles and where most likely thinking of using them as weapons to help her...save her.

_Shiva… please! Let this not become another Nibehleim! Please… save them! _She closed her eyes, trying to hold back her tears. Frustration, impotence and anger exploded inside her in equal amounts, blocking reason and attacking her mind.

Then, as if in answer to her prayers, the bells of Edge's clock began to chime. It was midnight.

Palpable silence abruptly settled in her bar. Tifa found herself –with tearful eyes- gazing at the door behind Sephiroth. But what was she waiting for? Her midnight customer to come strolling in and save them…? Did she honestly wish him to come? Would it not be better if he was out of harm's way?

The bell above the entrance ringed as the door was opened slowly. She felt a prang of both joy and hope when in came the hooded man with the crisp breeze of a new day. His cane in hand, he limped undaunted –not towards his booth- but towards the music box that had stopped playing.

No one moved as he proceeded in searching for a coin within his pocket –ignoring the fact that he had just interrupted a very dangerous fight. Introducing the coin into the slot, he took a few minutes to select a suitable song. Next, he pushed the button and waited for the discs to be changed.

The fragile strings of a violin, then the soft keys of a piano were heard. The orchestra opened way for the voice of a woman to sing those enchanted words of a language that sounded beautifully tragic and sad. Only after the woman's siren voice rang, did her customer whirl around, facing the suddenly tense figure of Sephiroth.

"Hmph… Jenova… Now, you face me," her customer spoke and, despite the calmness of his tone, there was a hint of venom draping his voice.

Tifa opened her mouth to say something but words did not come to her. As she gazed at her customer with open surprise, she wondered -why in the name of Odin- was he referring to Sephiroth as Jenova.

The first class SOLDIER smiled cruelly and hissed, "You dare raise against me… puppet?"

The lips of her customers pressed together slightly, confirming his scorn. He cracked his neck while changing the hold on his cane. _What the hell!_ The man was exercising pressure on his wounded foot. Either his leg had miraculously been healed or he'd been faking it…

As she took in the rest of what was happening, Tifa's eyebrows met uncertainly when her customer took a fighting stance in synchrony with Sephiroth. It was not so much the fact that he seemed fearless as he confronted the strongest monster in a one-on-one fight what troubled her.

No.

It was another oddity that was slowly filling her with a sense of cold dread. It was the way he was now standing that shook her and made chills run down her spine. _Why…?_ Why were they both standing the same way? Why were they both holding their weapon –one a sword and the other a cane- exactly in the same position, one hand before them and the sword tilted halfway forward? Why -oh, why did it seem as though they were standing in front of a tri-dimensional mirror?

Above all… _What does this mean?_

**-o0o-**

**Sephiroth Crescent **eyed his copy carefully. Damning Jenova for using his image yet again, he pondered upon what to do. Sure, he needed to kill this copy and dispatch the black-clad SOLDIERs threatening Tifa. A fallen helmet near his copy's feet stole his attention as he considered the situation. Rapidly, he spared a short glance at his surroundings.

"Hmph, I should have known," he murmured when his eyes met the lifeless figure of one of Genesis' degrading copies. So… some remained and had now joined Jenova? _How very troublesome._

"You stand no chance against me, my child," his copy warned, his smile less wide but still present.

Sephiroth's jaw clenched at being called her child. Jenova was nothing to him but an enemy that needed dealing with sooner rather than later. If she thought he was going to submit to her willingly again, she was in for a surprise.

He raised his gloved hand, cupping a fire ball. Without a second to waste, he sent the fiery projectile towards –not his copy- but the SOLDIER nearest Tifa. The attack was too unexpected for the Genesis copy to avoid and it hit him square on the chest, killing him instantly.

"Ah, so your strength is undiminished, I see," his copy again, his tone draped with a mocking tingle that threatened to set him on edge.

Still, Sephiroth clung to his self-control fervently. He would not allow his mind to be veered away from the coolness he needed to destroy this annoying fiend. Jenova had wounded his pride enough already! She would pay…

"I will give you another chance to be useful," his copy stated lightly, "Come back to me and I shall spare you."

Sephiroth smirked at him and spared another brief glance around him. He was glad to see that the two black-clad SOLDIERS were standing on the sides; apparently, not very keen on becoming a charred body anytime soon.

"Tifa," he called, returning his gaze to his awaiting copy. "Your friend is in need of your assistance."

He heard Tifa's unmistakable gasp followed by the sound of her footsteps as she approached the fallen and bloody waitress. She murmured a quick cure spell shortly after. When she was about to cast another spell, however, Sephiroth perceived his copy's movement and was quick to act.

His copy launched an attack directed at Tifa but Sephiroth was there to intercept it. The sound of wood meeting steel resonated above the music. Sephiroth's jaw clenched when he noticed his copy's sword had embedded itself on the outer layer of wood, so that when they parted, the sheath came off.

Tifa's gasp again and he knew she had recognized the sword he now held.

Masamune.

Sephiroth's eyes remained on his copy despite the temptation to turn and see what Tifa's expression showed. This was not how he wanted her to find out about him, but it could no longer be helped. He would have to make do with the situation after he finished this nuisance off.

The muscles of his copy's arm and back tensed. Sephiroth followed suit as he met his attack halfway. Clash…clash….clash…clash-clash.

As the fight progressed, Sephiroth felt sure that he would come out victorious. True, so far they had moved as though twins. Their swords had met at every thrust and parry. The difference was, however, that while his copy mimicked his attacks, Sephiroth could alter his and catch him unguarded.

Sephiroth had been attacking with his regular moves for enough time so as to plant the seed of confidence within his copy. Now, he was about to take advantage of that to finish him once and for all. So, feeling ready, the ex-SOLDIER lunged forward, his sword low by his side. His copy did the same. When they closed the distance, Sephiroth thrust his blade upward instead of arching it to the side. Before his copy's blade could come near his neck, Sephiroth had already embedded Masamune half-way into his stomach.

"Tremble and weep, Jenova. I'm coming for you," he hissed when he wrenched his weapon out of the withering body. As life was drained out of his copy, his face began to shift until a stranger stood facing him with empty eyes.

Sephiroth sighed and was about to turn to face the two black-clad SOLDIERs remaining, when –out of the back entrance of the bar- a disc of energy hit him on the chest and sent him crashing into the wall. The wall trembled and finally broke under the impact, creating a huge hole that led to the deserted street outside.

He cursed inwardly for having been caught off guard as he regained his feet. Brushing the pain away, he walked inside the bar and –this time- he managed to see Tifa's widened and tearful eyes. He noticed right then that he was no longer wearing his concealing hood, and forced himself to look away when her intense gaze threatened to consume him.

What had he seen in her eyes? There were so many things there that Sephiroth felt confused and- What was this damn pain he was feeling? Where the hell was it coming from and how could he make it stop?

"Brother, we finally meet," a lean man -dressed in white pants, a beige long, leather cloak with a dark brown shirt underneath it- spoke.

He stared at his attacker, taking in every detail of his appearance. The man reminded him of the three puppets who had tried to continue Jenova's reunion. His hair was silver, messy and braided at the nape into a thin strip reaching down his coccyx. His skin was pale and his eyes were a catlike shade of –not blue and green like him, but- hazel and green.

Sephiroth narrowed his eyes in a glare at his unwelcome interruption. He raised Masamune and fell into a fighting stance. He would show this meddling cod no mercy!

The stranger gave half-a-shrug before raising his saber to show he too was ready to begin. "Are you not even curious as to who I am, brother?" he asked with a kind smile that was quite unnerving.

"You are one of Jenova's puppets, I need to know nothing more," Sephiroth said.

"Ah, well no matter. I will tell you anyways," the smile widened –if possible- even more. "My name is Sephiel and I shall fight you now, brother."

**-o0o-**

**Tifa Lockhart** followed the figures moving through her bar with a speed that made their bodies blur constantly. Yet, despite the fact that she was in danger, she could not even stir. Her body was paralyzed by the amount of feelings swirling inside her body, threatening to produce a mental breakdown.

First, Tifa had felt despair and frustration. Then, that had transformed into hope and joy. Finally she was left with a mess as fear, confusion, doubt, betrayal, pain and anger filled her and fought for dominion of her drumming heart.

What did this mean? Why was Sephiroth here? Why was 'he' the one helping her instead of attacking? _For Gaia's sake, what the hell is going on!_ She thought furiously as her eyes ached with unshed tears. Never in her life had she understood better than now the meaning of those old words, 'ignorance is bliss'.

"Teef…," a tired and low voice called. It was enough to snap her off her self-examination as she returned her attention to Rosie. Tifa had managed to stop the bleeding but the woman was still weak and she needed to go to a hospital right away.

"Hush, Rosie," she said, caressing her pale cheek. "Everything's going to be alright. I'm going to find someone to take you out of here. Wait for me for a second, okay?"

The waitress nodded weakly and Tifa stood up. Her eyes immediately roamed the place in search of the SOLDIERs. She was glad to see that they were still glued to their place in the sidelines –away from where she currently stood.

"Martin, Josh!" she called the two customers who were nearest to her. The men –distracted from the spectacle before them- turned to her. She briskly signaled them to come and they did.

"Wass goin' on, Tifa?" Martin asked unsure.

"I don't know," the martial artist responded frankly, "But I need you to take Rosie and everyone out of here. It's dangerous for you to stay here. Use the newly created hole to get out as fast as possible."

"Should we call the WRO?" asked Josh, as he picked Rosie by the armpits while his companion took her legs.

Tifa thought about it for a second before nodding in approval, "Just make sure everyone leaves."

The men nodded and proceeded in asking other men to shepherd everyone out of the bar while the fighters were occupied. Around ten minutes later, Tifa sighed with relief. The bar was finally empty save for her, Sephiroth, Sephiel and the two SOLDIERs.

"I should go," she told herself, yet she remained on the exact place where she had found out who her customer really was. Fact was, she couldn't leave. There were too many questions she needed answered. There were too many feelings she needed to organize.

Why was Sephiroth here?

She felt her frustration doubling. She was supposed to hate him! Not long ago, when she'd thought the shape-shifter was Sephiroth, she had vowed to kill him or to die trying, hadn't she? So what had changed…?

Tifa, however, knew what the problem was. The feeling of betrayal was simply too strong to be overwhelmed by her decreasing anger. The man had helped her in several occasions. He'd stayed by her bed when she had passed out drunk!

But the man had also lied to her and deceived her. Was that not enough to garner her anger?

"Sephiel… do you need assistance?" a strong voice called from the entrance of the bar. Tifa took in the form of the newest stranger guardedly.

He was huge. He was probably twice her height and thrice her weight. He was heavily muscled with an incredibly broad back and chest. His neck had unnaturally thick veins popping on the sides. His hair was short and silver, his eyes a shade of hazel and blue. He was wearing clothes resembling Sephiel's –the colors unaltered, as though it was some sort of uniform.

"I have this, Uriel!" Sephiel said when he parted with his opponent.

Tifa turned to Sephiroth. He seemed unhurt for the most part, but she could identify numerous small cuts on his arms. Sephiel, however, was not untouched either.

"I am sorry, brother," Uriel said as he approached them, positioning himself on the other side of a seemingly-relaxed Sephiroth, "but Mother said we should kill him before killing her."

Tifa's eyes widened with fear and confusion when the man named Uriel pointed at her. Why did Jenova wish to kill her? Was she after all of AVALANCHE or had she just targeted her?

"Be gone, Uriel!" Sephiel hissed, his smile disappearing, "I told you I've got this. You take care of the woman!"

The ground began to tremble after those words. Tifa's eyes jumped to the figure of Sephiroth. He had planted Masamune between his feet and was muttering something below his breath.

"He's summoning," she whispered when she saw his hands being outlined by red mako energy.

A terrifying roar was heard before the roof of her bar –complete with the upper story- was ripped from the base of the building. Tifa's wine eyes met the black ones of Bahamut Zero –the strongest of the dragons. The dragon reached down, swinging his claws at the three men below. Sephiroth was quick to move out of the way, but Sephiel –too stubborn- tried to stop them with his sword.

"Sephiel, you idiot!" Uriel spat angrily, unsheathing his humongous axe from where it had been strapped to his back.

In a blink, Sephiroth was standing before her, towering her as he stared right into her very soul. Instinctively, she gave a step back as a rush of fear invaded her. She saw something flash in his eyes –something that strangely resembled sadness or disappointment.

"We need to leave," he said, offering her a gloved hand. When he raised his hand, she noticed drops of blood coming out of the sleeve of his cloak, dripping into the floor at every second.

"I…," she was at a loss. Of course going with him was just as bad as staying here, wasn't it? So then…why did she felt the desire to go with him? To help him and tend to him like he had tended to her when she had gotten one too many drinks?

"Tifa," his voice held a tingle of urgency, yet his eyes did not unlocked with hers nor did his tone became commanding, "I need you to trust me… I can't let you get hurt."

The sincerity in his voice was too hard to miss. She closed her eyes for a second, confusion seizing her. When she opened them, she stepped forward and took his hand, her face pale and her emotional turmoil dancing in her eyes.

Sephiroth's hand closed on hers before he pulled her towards him. His arms clasped around her as a single, beautiful black wing sprung from his back. She felt the wing enveloping her, the soft feel of the feathers caressing the side for her face and arms. Then, she felt a tightening in the air around her creating pressure that had not been there. It was almost as if she had been tossed inside the very depths of the ocean. Ironically, her hands clutched the fabric of the cloak of the man she'd dreamt of killing, searching for safety.

Suddenly, the pressure disappeared. As soon as she felt solid ground beneath her feet, she stepped back and away from him as though his mere touch brunt her skin. Now that they were alone, her anger seemed ignited by the memory of her father's and Aerith's corpses.

This man had destroyed almost all which she held dear! He had betrayed her trust and had toyed with her feelings! This man was a … a cold-hearted monster!

"I hate you," she spat, her eyes flashing with feral ire as –despite her aching tiredness- she switched into a fighting stance.

"I know," Sephiroth said.

The ex-SOLDIER closed his eyes as though in defeated acceptance, and made no move to either defend or attack. Tifa's eyes narrowed and, without further hesitation, she lashed out.

**To be continued…**


	7. Quest for Answers

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any of its characters. I am just burrowing them for a while.

**Author's notes: **Thank you for the reviews, guys and gals! The support is amazing! I am having tons of fun with this story and I hope you are too.

Again, I would like to thank my anonymous reviewers to whom I am unable to reply in any other way. So thanks: _**Anonymus**_(happy to catch you off guard)_, __**Caz**__ (_glad to read you again and I like to keep my readers guessing and then spinning things a bit!)_, __**CNome**_(also glad to read you back and thanks for the compliment),_**Kerttu**_(indeed, poor Seph),_**Anne**__**Nonimus**_(thanks!)_ and __**Shanrock**_(your review made me grin from ear to ear).

Also, just thanking again my other readers: _**KCVII, Cinnamon Heart, Troubled Fred, Cpt. Sawmonkey, Selendrii, naruto1091, Captain Spiral and Ghedea! **_

Enjoy and don't forget to **review**!

**PS: Important! Please read the story's notes below.**

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**Story's notes:**

_Okay, before I forget. I am not taking into consideration some (almost all) of Dirge of Cerberus' story here, especially the part containing Genesis. So in that case after being retrieved by Deepground in Crisis Core, Genesis escapes the facilities and seals himself in mako energy waiting for the planet to call him from his slumber. _

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_-"Am I supposed to trust you?" –"Trust your instincts." -"My instincts tell me to kill you of right now." –"Those are your emotions acting without the benefit of intellect."_

_-Dialogue of the movie 'Passenger 71'-_

"**One Winged Angels"**

By: FenixPhoenix

**Chapter 7: "Quest for Answers"**

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**Genesis ****Rhapsodos **stirred after being dismissed by Minerva, the supreme Goddess of Gaia. His eyes fluttered open leisurely. He was lying inside a crystal made of pure mako–his chosen prison to atone for his past sins.

His muscles screamed when he raised his hand, palm facing forward. With a grunt, he concentrated his energy and sent a shaft of ice to pierce the blueish crystal. The icy lance broke through the thick layer and, around the hole, cervices began to appear. Slowly, they snaked through the entire surface with low cracking sounds.

Genesis closed his eyes preparing himself for what was to come. Sure enough, mere seconds later the whole thing shattered, sending pieces bouncing onto him, cutting here and there shallowly in the exposed skin of his face and neck.

He opened his mako blue eyes and shook the remaining pieces off of him while sitting up. His muscles ached terribly from not having been moved in only the Goddess knew how long.

At the thought of the blond woman of his dreams, her words echoed in his head. She had at long last given him a mission to fulfill, he recalled with deep and building excitement.

"The planet calls for me," he said, standing up and dusting himself off, "And I, its humble servant, shall answer."

He inspected his surroundings critically. He was alone. No other sign of life moving but him. It was nighttime by what little moonlight could be filtered from the broken ceiling of the cave. His sheathed sword in hand, he proceeded in tying it securely to his side.

"Reunite with a former companion, huh?" he mumbled remembering Minerva's vague explanation. Well, thankfully his list of companions was pretty 'limited', though that didn't make the task any less difficult. After all, he had no idea where everyone was or if they were even alive.

The last people he'd seen had been Zack and a degrading Angeal. In pain-filled silence, he wondered if Angeal had also been rescued from the curse of fast aging like he had. The poet was still unsure as to why Angeal had displayed such symptoms to begin with. He was, after all, better than Genesis –genetically speaking. In fact, he was almost as good as Sephiroth.

_Well, standing around thinking about it will lead me nowhere_, he argued. He needed information and there was one particular place that came to mind. If he wished to know of Angeal, the one he considered his most valuable friend and comrade, he might as well visit the place where he'd last seen him, right?

"I shall then return to the place of my birth and my past downfall…," he whispered theatrically, walking towards the exit. The irony of his previous statement made his lips quirk into a dark-humored smirk.

Truth was, he was not very keen on returning to _that_ place, but he had little choice left in the matter. He would just have to face the terrible ghosts of his past. Before stepping outside, however, he reached for his back pocket. Feeling the small book he smiled fondly and took it out. His eyes softened as he gazed at the item. The leather cover was old and chapped here and there, but the inside was intact.

From all of his collection, this edition was his most precious. Why would that be, one might ask. Though the story hold within the pages was LOVELESS -his favorite- it was by no means the best edition. And he should know since he owed them all.

No, this book was valuable in a different sense than the monetary. This book had been a present from Angeal –his very best friend. Sighing and hoping he would get to see the man again, he flipped the book open and read out of the random page.

"There is no hate, only joy. For you are beloved by the goddess. Hero of the dawn, Healer of worlds," he spoke the words smoothly, feeling each and every one as they rolled down his tongue. He tasted them as though he was drinking from the elixir of life itself, "Dreams of the morrow hath the shattered soul. Pride is lost. Wings stripped away, the end is nigh…"

He closed the book feeling a strange tightening in his heart –as if the printed words had predicted something that he was unwilling to accept. He shook his head, placing the book away and stepping outside into the cold night.

"It's nothing," he said after a shrug, trying hard to assure himself of that statement.

For a while, he watched the stars and the moon that was shining the brightest; contemplating the night's beauty with unrestricted awe. He had missed this. He had missed how the universe kept reminding him that standing before its glory, he was but a fragile dwarf.

"To Banora Village then," he sighed, calling forth his one black wing and -after glancing back one last time at what had been his home and prison- he moved towards the sky, melting into its cold but peaceful darkness.

**-o0o-**

**Sephiroth Crescent **kept blocking her strong but sloppy attacks again and again. She was crying. The torturous vision of her tears made his chest tighten painfully. But her reaction was inevitable and had certainly been expected. He had hurt her so much… even if he'd been under Jenova's influence when it happened, it was still his fault. Guilt was slowly filling him, pushing all thoughts of the attack on her bar out of his mind.

"Why?" she spat angrily, her fist connecting with his injured shoulder agonizingly. The knife Sephiel had managed to plunge into the back of his shoulder was still embedded on his tensed muscle.

His jaw clenched and he forced his SOLDIER's instincts down. He would not retaliate. He would never hurt this woman again, not because Minerva had charged him with her safety, but because he had come to 'respect' her too much to wish her any harm.

"Why did you have to be him!" she continued, her tone a mixture of anger and distress.

Sephiroth's brows met. What was she talking about? He had expected her to ask his reasons for murdering her father or for burning Nibelheim. Instead, she was making no sense. Who had he pretended to be?

"Why…! Why did you have to take 'him' away from me! Why couldn't you have been someone else!" she snarled, her physical assaults less fierce as her vigor began to dwindle. "You lied to me, you bastard! You toyed with me!"

Her last accusations struck a nerve and, suddenly, he felt a powerful desire of setting her straight, at least in that department. So when next her fist came looking for his face, he grasped her wrist and twisted her arm.

He did it in such a way that he managed to incapacitate her without actually hurting her. He felt her squirm in retaliation, sending jolts of pain to his shoulder. He was glad she was tired by now -else she would have easily broken his grip.

Still, his actions had only enraged her more, but his impassive mind was two steps ahead of her, ready to deal with her reaction properly. Sephiroth was planning on using a fool-proof strategy that had more than once been used on him in the past before he'd learned to control his emotions.

Thus, plan in mind, he led her to his room. From there he pushed her to the bathroom and into the shower. Quickly and expertly –ignoring the throbbing pain in his shoulder- he twisted one of the faucets. Cold water began to rain upon her. She tried to get out but he did not budge –his grip tightening to maintain her in place.

Her squirming stopped and he read her defeat when her shoulders sagged forward –the rage slowly being washed away. After a couple of minutes, Sephiroth released his hold when he was sure the heat of her anger had somewhat subsided.

As soon as he retrieved his hand, Tifa turned around to face him and stepped away from him until her back was pressed to the wall. Then, she slid to the ground holding her arms close to her chest as the water kept soaking her, making the fabric of her clothes cling to her worn out body.

Her emotions had finally let go of the power they held over her as she lay there, utterly tired and… lost. Her eyes were unfocused and, despite the water, he could see she was still crying. It was quite… upsetting. He did not like it one bit.

"I never once lied to you, Tifa Lockhart," he said, allowing her to hear the sincerity in his suddenly rough voice. He knelt so that they were eye-level and forced his voice to come out smooth as he continued, "The man that visited your bar everyday at midnight, is the same one who is now before you."

"You never told me you were Sephiroth," she countered, her gaze hard on him.

"I never said otherwise either," he countered, standing up, "and you never asked."

"Would you have told me if I had?" he could hear the disbelief in her voice.

"I guess we'll never know," he replied softly.

She said nothing else after that but he could see she was thinking about what she'd learn, the frown upon her brow a clear indication. The exhaustion of both her body and mind was now even more evident, as she brought her legs to her chest and hugged them. She looked at a complete loss as to how to proceed; her confidence long gone.

When he shifted, the pain returned, reminding him of his furious fight. Sephiroth bit back a grunt as he moved towards the sink. He placed his hands on the marbled bowl and breathed profoundly. When he was as calmed as he could get, he reached towards the knife's handle protruding from his back. He clasped it tightly, closed his eyes and pulled.

Pain.

Hot and terrible pain.

It shot like an electric bolt from the surface of the wound shaking him to his very core. The burning sensation made him forget –if only temporarily- the emotional pain that had nestled in his heart. He let a shaky breath out through partly opened lips as he inspected the bloody knife. Its steel blade was at least seven inches long and more than half of it was covered in blood.

His blood.

Putting the blade down on the sink grimly, he took off one of his leather gloves. He reached again for the tender spot on his back with his naked hand, and promptly cast a cure spell. His hand was outline by green mako energy as glittering orbs came out of his palm to be swiftly absorbed by the wound.

He felt a coolness wiping out the fire his wound produced, as the orbs did their job in stopping the bleeding. The gash, however, was too deep for magic to close or hasten the process of scarring. No matter. He would just have to bandage it and let it heal naturally. At least, Jenova's cells allowed for quick regeneration, and he would not be surprised if the wound was fully closed in two nights.

A sneeze alerted him to the fact that Tifa was still being showered with extremely crisp water. He frowned as he looked at her through the mirror. He was beyond surprised when he noticed the woman hadn't moved an inch. Sephiroth had expected her to get out or at least turn the damn thing off!

He sighed inwardly as he approached her. She didn't move but her eyes were open and he could read sharp awareness in them. Wearily, her wine orbs followed his every move while her body stiffened –if possible- even more. He turned the tap off and reached for one of the towels hanging on a nearby rack. He offered it to her and was relieved when –after only a second of hesitation- she took it with minor reluctance.

"What do you want from me?" her tone was dull and defeated. He realized he didn't like that either.

"I want to keep you safe," he answered straightforward, honesty poured into that short confession.

"Why?" Now it was profound distress what draped her quivering voice.

He tilted his head to one side, trying to figure out how best to answer that. However, she must have thought he didn't understand the question because she elaborated.

"Why…? Why did you kill my father? Why did you burn my home? Why did you kill my friend? Why did you come to my bar? Why did you help me? Why did you save me? Why…?" She said it all quickly, without giving him a chance to respond. When she was done, she bit her lower lip -her eyes begging for answers as anguish and confusion swirled inside her orbs in equal amounts.

"It's a long and complicated story," he confided turning his back to her, "but I will explain myself once you get out of those wet clothes."

"I…"

"I'll leave a change in the bed outside," he said walking and stopping in the threshold. He sighed inaudibly and glanced at her over his shoulder, "When you are ready, meet me in the kitchen. I will tell you… everything."

With that he stepped outside and into his room. He strolled to his closet and took out a change of clothes for him and a change for her. Since his wardrobe was very sparse, he had no choice but to leave a black button up shirt and boxers for her to wear. Hopefully, the shirt would be long enough to almost act as a gown –granted, a very baggy and plain one, but a gown nonetheless.

Taking a clean pair of black sweatpants and a white wife-beater, he left the room and went to change in the TV area –the same place where he would be spending the night since he decided Tifa would be using his room. Was that not the gentlemanly thing to do?

Having bandaged his shoulder and changed into his night attire, he padded to the kitchen. He was exhausted, his muscles protesting as he covered the short distance. Yet, he was also hungry –having slept almost the entire day- and he guessed Tifa would likewise wish for something to help regain some of her energies.

He sat on a stool at the edge of his kitchen counter and flipped open the cooking book he'd recently bought. Since he had never cooked before his 'resurrection', he had been willing to try his hand and had been more than satisfied by how his dishes came out.

He had always been under the impression that cooking was hard but –to his grand surprise- it was extremely easy. As long as he followed the recipes of the book, he was bound to be successful in his enterprise.

He scanned the pages unsure as to what to cook. Since this time he was not alone, he had to consider what Tifa may or may not like which was rather difficult. Up until now, he had never been one to carefully consider another person's tastes, but it wasn't as unwelcomed as he would have imagined.

"Mmmm…" he stared at a page intently. Chicken soup seemed to be one of his best choices, especially since he'd let Tifa soaking in cold water. Surely, she would be welcoming something warm?

Having decided upon that, he stood up and began taking out the ingredients he would need. He propped the book beside the stove and put some water to boil. As he chopped the vegetables expertly, he wondered why Tifa's last reprimand had troubled him so much. After all, it had been something that had crossed his mind in multiple occasions. Even when he'd spoken to her under the protection of his hood, he'd known –deep down- that he was fooling both of them into believing that he didn't have an advantage.

Perhaps having heard her calling him 'fake' scared him because it might be true? No. That was not it. Quite the contrary, in fact. It was precisely because under that hood he'd been genuine –his feelings, his actions, his awakening emotion, everything about him- that he had reacted so strongly.

And why should that be strange? After all, he'd been a pretender all of his life, just like she was. He'd always been aware of the hundreds of eyes upon him –ShinRa's executives, Hojo, his rivals, SOLDIERs, fans and the public in general- that he had been forced to act according to everyone's expectations. Be that a cold-hearted bastard, a calculating SOLDIER, a revered hero or a successful experiment. He'd done it all.

Except now…

When he'd thrown the hood on for the first time and walked into her bar, there were no expectations –no image to uphold or reputation to protect. He was a stranger; a crippled man who was looking for a new beginning and a way to atone for his past. It was extremely uplifting being able to move without having to carry his heavy baggage at all times.

Sephiroth had never been as honest as when he'd met her. Though he had hidden his physical self under shadows, he had shed the real mask –revealing himself for who he really was. He'd told her the truth. To every question she asked he'd answered truthfully and almost… eagerly?

His brow furrowed and the knife began to connect with the wooden plank with more strength than usual. He realized just then that he was irritated by the mere notion that she believed he had been 'toying' with her. Was it so hard to believe that the midnight customer was him?

_Well, what did you expect?_ He heard his own consciousness ask rather mockingly.

The irritation seemed to lessen but it did not leave him altogether. Indeed, how could he expect her to believe his sudden change, when he'd also been the monster she so despised? Yes, though part of him claimed that everyone had been wrong, his other part reminded that he had lived up to the roles he'd been given –most times unwillingly but sometimes willingly too.

How devastatingly true! He had been all of them. He had used all the masks that the people surrounding him had thrown at him. And he'd played each and every role with the precision which he'd been more than once complimented upon.

Yes. Undeniably, he had been perfect; flawless at fighting, saving and yes, even killing. He'd done it all and had successfully constructed an image to go according to the short descriptions made about him. He had boldly risen to meet the bloody roles imposed by the people who were supposed to care for him –about him.

Sehiroth Crescent… the perfect experiment.

The perfect pupil.

The perfect SOLDIER.

The perfect hero.

The perfect… monster.

Sadly, he could not say he had been at least the prefect friend. Had he cared enough, he would have helped Genesis with his degradation. He would have found and helped Angeal when he doubted his humanity. He wouldn't have attacked Zack back in Nibelheim's reactor.

But he had done nothing. In the end, he had failed his friends and his SOLDIER's honor. In doing so, he had also broken so many images –most of which he had been once upon a time proud of. By the end, he had only kept one title.

The perfect monster.

Or should he change the title to 'a weak and pathetic puppet'?

_Can I still question Tifa's words?_ He asked himself grimly, applying so much force to the knife, that the blade embedded itself on the wood.

He shook his head before his amounting distractions would result in the kitchen's knife slicing something that was not a carrot. He sighed and dumped the vegetables in the boiling broth. He then proceeded in adding some species in the amounts indicated by the trustworthy book.

Stirring the soup idly, he took the remote from where it had been lying on the counter. He turned on the TV and flipped through the channels searching for 'Edge's news', which he was sure would be covering what had happened in Tifa's bar. Soon, images of what remained of Seventh Heaven were being broadcasted. He was fairly sure she would not like what his summon had done to the place.

"**So far, there have been no casualties found within the destroyed section of the city,"** the news reporter informed.

_Well, at least those are good news_, he reasoned.

"**It is said, however, that someone summoned a dragon –much like the past month's attack in the center of Edge,"** the woman continued, "**Thankfully, the raging beast was stopped -before more havoc could be wrecked- by unknown individuals. Here's some of the footage we managed to acquire of the unknown heroes of Edge."**

_Heroes, huh? How very ironic…_ he thought bitterly. Sephiroth's interest peaked when the TV showed his silver-haired opponents –Sephiel and Uriel- dispatching the summon with a lethal combination of perfectly coordinated attacks.

The two had moved with liquid movements around the roaring Dragon, slashing and cutting at every part of its scaly, dark body. Until Bahamut Zero –strength depleted- had been brutally brought to the ground. The humongous body had then disappeared, most probably retrieved by the planet in order to heal one of its precious guardians.

Sephiroth's mood further soured. He did not take it lightly to his summon being hurt or those idiotic, Jenova's brats being referred to as heroes. The video ended and was replaced by the live broadcast again. The reporter was about to say something, before movement on her right distracted her. Excitedly, she signaled the cameraman to follow.

Sephiroth could see the WRO's soldiers were already there, searching for clues of what had happened within the derbies. The majority were too occupied to deal with the pestering reporters, as they walked to and fro ignoring them pointedly.

The brunette woman, glancing back to check the camera was still with her, approached a pale-looking man whom Sephiroth recognized as one of Tifa's regular clients. He had probably been present tonight.

Sephiroth swore purposely under his breath. The thought of this middle-aged man being witnessed to his fight was disturbing; especially since he was sure the man was bound to mention the return of the missing first class SOLDIER. The same man who had, according to ShinRa, been killed in action more than four years ago.

_This cannot be good,_ he stated silently, knowing that after this, he would have to be on the lookout not only for Jenova's minions but also from AVALANCHE's pissed off members too.

"**Sir! Excuse me, sir!" **the woman placed a hand on the shoulder of the distracted man to earn his attention, **"Where you present when the attack was launched? Can you tell us what happened and where the owner of the bar –Tifa Lockhart, member of AVALANCHE and heroine of Gaia- is?"**

"**They came out of nowhere," **the man said, his eyes roaming the destruction with unbelief.

"**Who did, sir?" **

"**The black-clad SOLDIERs."**

"**SOLDIERs? As in ShinRa's military units?" **the woman's excitement had clearly increased, as she tried to hide the smile that threatened to part her lips.

The man shrugged, **"I dunno… they jus' broke the damn windows and then Sephiroth came, only he wasn't really 'im, yo'know? An' then, the real Sephiroth came and killed the non-real. An' then, he was attack and Teef stayed with'im."**

The woman was confused by that, but her breathing was labored as she understood she had just stumbled upon a huge goldmine. **"Sir, are you talking about THE Sephiroth Crescent -first-class SOLDIER said to be missing in action?"**

The man nodded absently.

"**And you are saying he helped the heroine, Tifa Lockhart?" **

The man nodded again.

"**Who were the attackers?" **she asked, shaking his shoulder quite ruthlessly.

"**One of them silver haired dudes," **he said as though it was obvious, **"Yo'know, the one wit the damn braid an' the creepy smile."**

The woman's dark eyes were almost budging out of their sockets and just as she was about to ask something else, a WRO soldier interrupted.

"**Hey, you can't be here!" **he said, ordering some lower ranks soldiers to escort the news crew out, and taking the man away and into the abandoned building nearby that Sephiroth had previously used to spy on Tifa the day the kids left. He guessed the WRO had made the building their temporary base.

"**Well you all heard it. Is Sephiroth Crescent really back? Did he-"**

Sephiroth turned the TV off, already feeling a headache on its way. He just remembered how bothersome news reporters managed to be when it concerned him.

He heard the door of his room opening and some shuffling as Tifa step out. Unable to stop himself, he gave her a quick scan before turning his attention back to dinner. Never in his life had he been happier to posses his almost photographic memory as now. Looking at her through the picture in his mind, he inspected her attentively and with far more scrutiny. He was beyond impress by how successfully she had managed to pull out the hastily chosen outfit.

Heck, the woman looked way better on his clothes than he did.

The sound of a chair moving indicated that she had taken a seat at the table. He could feel her penetrating gaze on the side of his face, and knew she was waiting to get his full attention. Taking the kettle off the fire, he filled two cups with jasmine tea. He lowered the flame below the soup before moving to place the ceramic cups in the table –one of them directly in front of her.

Without a word, he moved back to the stove and kept stirring for a couple of more minutes. Then, he turned off the flame and proceeded in serving two bowls which he then brought to the table. Finally, he went back for the kettle and placed it between them and above a piece of wood.

Only after doing all that, did he took the seat in front of her and finally gave her his undivided attention. He noticed then, as he sipped at his tea, that she had not even touched hers yet.

"It will help with the cold," he said, signaling the food and the drink. Tifa's gaze became suspicious and Sephiroth couldn't help the small smirk that quirked the corner of his lips. "If I wanted to kill you, you would already be dead," he deadpan, no malice in his voice. He was simply stating a fact.

The woman sighed and took the drink, the shaking of her hands indicating that either she was cold or plainly scared. He seriously hoped it was the first. She sipped at the drink and he decided he would not beat around the bush any longer.

"The day I was sent to check on the Nibelheim's reactor was the day I willingly submitted myself to Jenova," he began, noticing how she leaned forward with interest glinting in her eyes.

Yes, she would listen to it all. But would she be able to understand it?

**-o0o-**

**Reeve Tuesti **gazed at the destruction before him seemingly impassive. Inside, though, his concern was brimming with each passing second. What had happened here? That was the first thing he had asked himself. The second one, he dared not think too much about, else he would lose what little control he had over his emotions.

"Sir!" a soldier approached him saluting stiffly when he reached him.

Reeve nodded curtly to him in acknowledgement, "What is your report, Commander?"

The man cleared his throat, "We have found no bodies within the wreck and we are, as we speak, interrogating the witnesses separately."

"What have they said so far?" he asked, turning his full attention on the man.

The Commander shifted uncomfortable under his dark gaze before responding, "They said Tifa Lockhart was attacked first by eight black-clad SOLDIERs and a man impersonating Sephiroth Crescent. They said she fought bravely but got overwhelmed…" Reeve closed his eyes, hoping the man was not about to inform him of his friend's murder. "But this is where things get stranger, sir."

His dark eyes opened at that and he stared at the soldier questioningly. "Why would you say that, Commander?"

"Well sir," the Commander breathed profoundly before continuing, "They said that the 'real' Sephiroth Crescent came to save her."

Reeve's thick brows met in unbelief. Surely, this could not be. Sephiroth would never save an AVALANCHE member! Least of all, the one closest to Cloud Strife! Hell, the psychotic warrior must have been angry after failing to kill the blond swordsman when he took control of Kadaj's body!

The Commander seemed to be thinking the exact same thing as he gazed at his leader waiting to be dismissed. Though, there were few who knew who was behind the meteor attack, most of the high-ranking WRO had been told about it, especially after witnessing Sephiroth's return.

"Okay… continue the interrogations and come report to me as soon as that is finished," Reeve ordered, taking out his PHS when he felt it vibrating in the pocket of his coat. He flipped it open and winced slightly when he read the name on the screen. He sighed, knowing he could not avoid the call forever and placed it on his ear.

"The fuck is goin' on, Reeve! I jus' turned on the fuckin' TV! Goddamit, you better tell me Tifa is damn fine!" Cid pretty much yelled in the speaker, his voice rough with worry while Shera tried to calm him down unsuccessfully.

"Cid," Reeve greeted solemnly, "I'm sorry. I'm not yet sure myself. What I do know is that so far everything points that Tifa –though hurt- is alive."

"Where the fuck is that chocobo-haired, good for nothin' boyfriend of hers!" he demanded growling.

Reeve sighed, "I have no idea. I tried calling him but his PHS is turned off."

"How fuckin' surprising," he hissed sarcastically, "I'm calmed Shera, back off! But when I get my hands on the bastard I'm gonna…"

The WRO's leader moved the phone away from his ear as Cid kept rambling about death threats and pain… lots of pain. "Reeve, you there!" that was his cue to place the speaker back on.

"Yes, Cid, I'm here."

"Okay… Jus' call me when you learn anythin'," he said, his tone now tired.

"I will," and with that, he put his phone away knowing that soon he would be receiving similar calls from the rest of AVALANCHE -except, of course, from the oblivious Cloud Strife.

He sighed as he walked towards a black-haired woman kneeling on the ground, inspecting something with great interest.

"Rie, find anything?" he asked, taking a knee beside her.

She turned her mismatched eyes to him –one hazel and one silver- and showed him the lock of silver hair in her gloved hand. "Perhaps," she said, moving her head so that her dark bangs would cover as much as possible the wound crossing horizontally her silver eye. ShinRa's victims kept joining in an effort to destroy what was left of the cursed organization, but Rie was actually helpful to them.

Reeve sighed again as he watched her place the lock of hair into a small evidence bag. With a bit of luck, Rie –raising star of the WRO research department- would be able to find something that would shed some light into this dark event.

His PHS began vibrating again and Reeve groaned as he, reluctantly, took it out. Barret. Yes, this was going to be a very, very long night.

**To be Continued… **

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**AN:** So, what do you guys think? I just had to add Reeve's scene there with Cid's phone call. Anyhow, please don't forget to **review**.


	8. Aching Hearts

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any of its characters. I am just burrowing them for a while.

**Author's notes: **Well, I think this was one of the most challenging chapters so far. I hope I did well with Tifa's scene. Overall, I was trying to get more humor (in the first scene) but it would have been unrealistic at this point in time.

**Quick thanks to logged-on reviewers:** _RisingGundam2006, Cinnamon Heart, TroubledFred, , Selendrii, Moony N Prongs, IWOBYD, KCVII, Eva Von Dee _and_ Ghedea._

**Quick replies to anonymous reviewers**: _Korus__(I am glad you like it, thanks for the compliment!), __Kerttu__(Yes, Seph cooking is possible, right? Hope this chap. answers your other question), __Caz__(Lol, yes. I wanted to show a different Sephiroth who was actually human! Glad you like him :p), __CNome__(I am glad this story is changing your mind about TifxSeph) and __Shanrock__(I hate to disappoint so I hope you like this chapter). _

**~Enjoy** and don't forget to **review**!

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"_Alongside time exists fate, the bearer of cruelty."_

_-Nyx (Persona 3)-_

"**One Winged Angels"**

By: FenixPhoenix

**Chapter 8: "Aching Hearts"**

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**(**AN**_: I hadn't planned on writing this until I read last chapter's reviews. Just to prove I do listen to you guys, here's a scene for those who asked –specifically: __**IWOBYD**__ and __**Shanrock. **__I never decline a challenge._)

**Barret Wallace **felt blissfully happy.

He'd had an excellent day and nothing could possibly sour his mood. He'd just closed a deal with a client he'd been working on for almost a year. His heart was soaring through the skies when he finally pulled into the garage of his cozy house.

It was already nightfall and the only thing he regretted about today was the fact that he had not made it for dinner. Still, he knew the kids would surely forgive him once he told them where he would be taking them to celebrate, because yes –they too, as his family- deserved to bask in his glory!

As soon as he was inside his house, he moved towards the phone. He had to share the news and spread the happiness! Tifa was the first that came to mind and why wouldn't she be? She was like a daughter to him and he owed her big time.

Plus, he figured she too would welcome a little vacation to… Golden Saucer! In fact, he was determined to let her know that he not only 'wanted' her to come, but that he 'needed' her to come. Why? Because he was too damn old to go around the theme park with them kids! She, on the other hand, would have a great time!

Of course, if she still seemed hesitant, he could always play his last card –the 'kids' missed her and he did too. Okay, so it was kind of a low blow –well, maybe a mid-drift blow to be precise- but it was true nonetheless!

As his fingers were about to finish dialing, he noticed the hour and –despite the itch to press the last number- he hung up.

"Better wait 'till she finishes," he mumbled, recalling how she made it a point not to answer the telephone and to keep her PHS off when she was working in her bar. Sighing, he figured he could use this to his advantage. By the time he called her, she would probably be too tired to fight his coaxing and would end up agreeing to spend at least a week with them.

Ah! Gaia's supreme Goddess was finally smiling at him!

Sitting on his comfy couch, he turned on the TV and flipped through the channels. After scanning twice what was being showcased tonight -by staring at each channel for no more than three seconds- he settled for the only thing that looked slightly interesting. A play called LOVELESS.

Expectedly, he frowned with exasperation after only five minutes. The lines made absolutely no sense to him! Who the hell wrote the _stupid_ play! Moreover, what were the odds of there being an equally _stupid_ –if not more idiotic- man putting money into actually showcasing the moronic thing?

Grumpily, he flipped through the channels again, settling this time for a documentary on ShinRa's foundations. Well, at least _this_ he sort of understood…

Barret's lids were soon closing when a sudden sound broke the monotonous voice of the documentary's narrator. _**We interrupt this show to bring to you news of the utmost importance. **_Perking up with interest, he leaned forward as a grave reporter appeared on the TV with the message 'special news' on the bottom.

He tuned out the voice of the reporter, his attention focused entirely on his sense of sight. His dark eyes widened and the control slipped through his suddenly slack fingers as images of a fallen building were shown with the title **Attack on Edge. **

His previously calmed breath hitched and his entire body began trembling –with fear or with rage, he was not too sure- as he recognized the place. Tifa's Seventh Heaven. His friend…no, his dear daughter's place…!

He gulped painfully, feeling a lump obstructing his throat as he gazed at the screen transfixed. Immediately, his hand reached for his PHS and he dialed her number automatically, his eyes not even sparing a glance at the huge phone in his tensed limb.

After only a second of hesitation, he placed the speaker on his ear. He held his breath in anticipation and hope that she would answer. Anything else was simply unacceptable!

**The number you've dialed is out of reach or is disconnected. Please try again, **announced the Irish accented voice of Cait Sith, Reeve's pet. Never in his life had Barret hated the phone company's automatic reply more than today.

His hand tightened on the phone as he tried to sooth his sudden rage –a sentiment born from a mixture of impotence and guilt. He should have been there!

A flash of purple robes followed by a group of WRO soldiers moving around the scene lighted the metaphorical bulb in Barret's freaked out mind. Knowing that he would not be able to rein his emotions when the time came, he quickly left the house.

When he was safely inside his closed truck, he tried Reeve's number. **BeepBeeepBeepBeep… **

He cursed boisterously. Who the fuck was calling Reeve when 'he' needed to call him! He punched the steering wheel so hard with his gun, that –to his further irritation- the damn leather-covered thing broke easily under the impact.

"Aaarrggh! Shittttt! Fuckin'thin'worthlesspieceofshit!"

He put his fist in his mouth, wishing to release his building stress but knowing that shooting at his truck would achieve nothing more than to wake the kids and the grumpy neighbors unnecessarily. Right now he had enough to deal with without adding any extra –and probably highly unwelcomed- problems.

"Everythin's gonna be fine," he told himself, wishing he could believe it, "She's fine dammit! She'as t'be!"

He searched through his contacts and pressed send when the highlight hovered on the person he wanted. He placed his ear on the speaker, his human hand fisted tightly around the artifact he was holding.

**The number you've dialed is out of reach or is-**.

"Sppppppiiiikkkkyyyyyy! Yo'better b'dead or nearly dyin', damn chocobo-haired ass!" He roared, quickly reminding himself not to break his phone as his frustration spiraled out of control.

Gone was the guilt and the impotence to be replaced by an anger so intense, it bit at every part of his body. He felt as though he was suffocating, his eyes seeing red as veins popped on every surface of his dark skin. Pain!

Someone was going to feel lots of pain, and right now whooping the ass of a certain blond fucking swordsman was looking more tempting by the second. He breathed in and out deeply, trying to push away his anger before he drove his broken truck to begin his Cloud-psycho-killing-hunt.

Again, he dialed Reeves' phone and –to his slight relief- his call went through. "Barret," he was greeted solemnly after two rings.

He breathed harshly, vainly pushing again at his obstructing lump. "Reeve," he seethed, his tone low but filled with a darker threat than if he'd been yelling, "Yo' better tell me yo've 'em fuckin' assholes who tore down Teef's place. So that when I get'ere, I can put a bullet in every fuckin' pore of their miserable bodies. Yo'also better tell me where the fuck she's at, so we can go ge'er immediately. Finally, yo' better tell me damn spiky's on'is way there as we speak!"

There was a long pause and Reeve didn't have to break it for Barret to know what the situation was like. None of his petitions where going to be answered. At least, not yet.

"FUCK! I'm gonna kill'em sonnofabitches who dared touched'er! And I'm gonna put a dozen bullets into the tick-skulled, chocobo-haired asshole 'cause he wasn't there for'er!" This time he did yell into the phone, his face flushed darker with anger.

"Barret, calm down," a pause followed by a sigh, "We believe she is at least unhurt."

The human machine gun took a bit of comfort in that as he felt some –okay, a tiny little bit- of his anger slipping away to be replaced by hope.

"Who's got'er?" he asked roughly… carefully, fully aware that Reeve was holding out on him.

"…I-I think it's best if we discuss this in person," the WRO's leader suggested, the concern in his voice evident.

"Dun fuckin' move from'ere, ex-spy," he rumbled threateningly, practically forgetting he was talking to a friend, "I'll be'ere in three days at the latest."

With that he snapped the phone close and proceeded to go and pack. He would need clothes as well as materia and weapons. He would also, for obvious reasons, need to find another vehicle. Damn his heated brain for not functioning properly at the time he broke the steering wheel!

Something was certain, though. Someone was going to pay!

When he was standing outside the kids bedroom, Barret felt moisture in his cheeks as his anger was immediately replaced by building distress. Touching his face, he realized with heartbroken shock that he was crying. He touched his forehead to their door feeling his heart aching terribly. The last he'd cried had been when Dyne had made him promise he would look after his daughter, Marlene.

_Tifa has to be okay, _his mind insisted. _She just has to be okay._

**-o0o-**

**Tifa** **Lockhart** was silent when he finished talking. Her mind was saturated with the amount of information she'd received. As she stared at her host, she felt under the impression he had never before talked so much, or allowed anyone to see so many emotions traveled through his alluring eyes.

When he was finished, his rapidly changing mood seemed to settle on dejection. He was staring at her, looking for any kind of reaction to his naked story and the demonstration of his raw feelings –both things which, she could tell, were also a first for him. Perhaps he had been right when he'd told her SOLDIER had crippled him…

She closed her eyes, wishing to disappear from under that scrutinizing and intense gaze. Like him, she too felt extremely exhausted and –though she had barely eaten- she was not feeling hungry anymore.

Her jaw clenched as she tried to appease her shifting emotions. Yet, her sentiments whirled around like a pack of fluttering birds caged inside a room made of crystal –bumping into the surface that provided a view of the various exits, but allowed no escape.

Yes. Tifa could see more than one way out, yet as she tried to make a run for one of them, a part of her stopped her. It was so painfully confusing, so frustratingly difficult to make a decision.

She had to give him credit. It must have been hard for a man like him to accept he had lost control of both his indomitable spirit and his sharp mind. But what was she supposed to do now? Just excuse all his past actions? Forgive and forget the fact that he'd hurt her and destroyed her past– leaving the mark of his psychotic break as a scar in her stomach for her to remember every day?

There were so many feelings battling in her heart and so many thoughts trying to push their way into the front of her mind, that she felt her entire system scream as it was slowly switching into an overload that threatened to shut down everything.

Before she'd fully commanded it, a single question slipped past her trembling lips. "Did 'you' kill him? Did 'you' murder my father?"

She emphasized the word before that one verb that had plagued her every waking thought ever since Nibelheim's fire and the inevitable demise of her past persona. She saw his powerful shoulders slumping slightly as he leaned forward on his elbows, before letting out a profound and almost defeated sigh.

This man before her… he was so unlike the image of Sephiroth she had conjured. He was not the figure of her nightmares, who laughed wickedly as he walked through the flames untouched. He was not that man whose cold eyes barely looked at her as he shoved her out of his way with a move of his wrist and a slash of his blade. The man before her could not have been more different than the man who'd killed Aerith with a smile on his face. The same monster who had –without hesitation- called upon the power of meteor in an effort to destroy the entire planet!

There was no delusion of grandeur there. There was no madness in his eyes or evil in his smile. No. This man was her midnight customer. This man was the person who'd helped her in her time of need, when she was in a most vulnerable state. The ear who listened to her problems uncomplaining belonged to this tired man -this crippled warrior.

But… was he also the one who killed her father? Was he also the man who robbed her of her family and home? Surely... surely that couldn't be… right?

His voice drew her back to reality as she waited in tensed expectation for what he would tell her. She ardently hoped that he would answer with the only two-lettered-word that could put her emotional turmoil to rest.

"Yes, I did. To my utmost disgrace, I deprived you from him and –had my sword been longer- I would have killed you too," he responded straightforward, his eyes meeting hers and allowing her to see the guilt –the shame that resided there.

Tifa's breathing shook and her eyes ached with tears. Why did she felt disappointment throbbing harder than her anger? Did she wish for him to blame it all on Jenova –even if he had to lie about it?

_Why not! Why couldn't it be 'only' Jenova's fault? He'd said she'd entered his mind from the moment he stepped inside the reactor, right? _A voice within her argued, logic trying to echo through the power of her emotions.

In fact, hadn't he said that Jenova had messed with his priorities and –before even his own survival- she'd placed her wellbeing first, so that he'd sooner die than fail to protect her? Hadn't he explained that Jenova had somehow turned his consciousness –the ability to care about the consequences of his actions- off so that, though he knew what he was doing, he did not fully comprehend it on an emotional plane?

She tried to voice the argument but he interrupted her halfway, his voice oddly tight. "I hurt you, Tifa Lockhart," he admitted, his hands balling into fists as he tried to control his self-loathing. "It doesn't matter whether Jenova had already messed with my mind or not. In the end, the fault lies with me because I let it happen."

Tifa gulped, feeling her throat patchy as her body succumbed to the natural effects of her emotions. Though he had shoved the excuse she was making for him away, she couldn't shun the part of her that was still trying to 'convince' herself that he was not to blame.

He wouldn't have done what he did if not for Jenova, right? So why couldn't he just blamed it all on the entity that invaded him? Why was he being so stubborn! Didn't he understand what was at stake? Couldn't he realize that it would be easier to trust him and accept his help if that was the case? Why was he refusing her strained –albeit selfish- help?

"If what you said about not being able to use your conscience-"

He raised a hand to stop her and his eyes flashed with a hint of anger for a second, as he gazed at her suddenly tearful orbs. He was drowning himself and he was taking her down with him!

"If a drunken driver was to hit and kill one of the children that was living with you, will you say it was not his fault?" he asked, his tone marking that this talk was just as difficult for him as it was for her.

Tifa's eyes widened with confusion, her mind too tired to make a connection. "I don't know see what the-"

He sighed, "Just answer the question…please."

Her jaw clenched but she did as told and answered truthfully, "It would be his fault."

He nodded in acceptance and the anger ebbed away to be replaced again by that gloominess that seemed so out of place in him.

"It's the same thing with what happened to me, Tifa," his voice was low as he continued, "In this hypothetical case, the alcohol in the driver acted just like Jenova in me. Though the man was not in his full capacity when he was driving, he still chose to drink and to get in that car and drive." A pause and then, "I could have fought Jenova's control, but I didn't. I am just as accountable as the drunken driver. No more no less."

There was silence again as his explanation sunk into her reluctant mind. She hated this. She hated knowing she should hate him and being unable to. She felt dirty and disgusted with herself.

She thought about her father and what he would think. The man would probably roll in his grave if he knew that instead of only despising the warrior before her –she loathed but sympathized with him at the same time. How can such an incoherent idea, emotion, thought settle within her? How could she both like and hate someone so much that it tore her apart to try to tilt the precarious balance?

He must have sensed her internal battle because he promptly gave her an escape route. Or perhaps he simply took advantage of the opportunity to also extract himself from the uncomfortable and difficult situation.

Whatever it was, she was grateful.

"We should continue this tomorrow," he suggested, rising from the table as he began to retrieve the dishes. "I think it's best if you sleep on this before attempting to make any decision."

She nodded curtly, her emotional distress adding to her exhaustion."Where can I sleep?" she asked, when she noted that there was only one room in the small apartment.

He pointed to the room whence she'd come from. His room.

"That's not necessary," she began in a stoic tone that proved her almost dead state of mind, "I can sleep on the-"

"Please, Tifa Lockhart. I insist," he said it with such finality that she shrugged her protest away in favor of following her brain's insistent instruction of 'rest now'.

So, without another word or glance his way, she moved to the room and shut the door with a low click. Feeling absolutely so many things at the same time that it amounted to nothing coherent, she crumbled on his soft bed and immediately fell into a deep but troubled slumber.

**-o0o-**

**Genesis ****Rhapsodos **touched ground little after sunset, feeling more tired than he should. Yet, he decided to push that oddity to the back of his mind for now.

Mako blue eyes gazed at the place that held so many good and bad memories with a hint of melancholy. Walking through the canopy of Banora trees, he made his way to the group of houses that stood at the end –completely still and void of life.

His heart was throbbing fast inside his ribcage as each step brought him nearer to his destination, and to the answers he both ardently sought and utterly feared. He let out a profound sigh when at last he stepped away from the ceiling of trees he'd loved so much.

"I'm home," he muttered, looking at the three story building where he'd lived before joining SOLDIER. A painful ache began to fill him when he remembered the last time he'd come here.

_He was degrading. His once bright-red hair now streaked with silver as he landed awkwardly on the ground before his house. Surely, what Dr. Hollander had said could not be true, could it? _

_No. This couple was his parents! They'd known absolutely nothing about the experiment! In fact, he was positive they would be just as confused as he was when they saw what was happening to him. _

_Put at ease by his conclusion, Genesis stepped inside the landlord's house. His eyes inspected his surroundings, taking in the familiar atmosphere with a breath of nostalgia. _

_He found them sitting on one of the living rooms, peacefully sipping at their tea. Their eyes widened considerably when they saw him, standing there as death's fingers slowly tightened its hold around his tired soul. He had expected so many things but certainly not this. The fear they displayed was not for his well-being but for theirs! How could they look at him like that?_

"_G-Genesis," his mother's voice held deep surprise as the ceramic cup fell from her fingers to smash loudly against the ground. His father gave him an uninterested glance and it was all he needed to comprehend. _

"_You shouldn't be here," the landlord said with a hint of disgust. His voice shattered his heart into perhaps the same amount of white pieces that now covered the ground around his mother's feet._

"_You knew," he accused grimly; anger, pain and disappointment battling inside his perturbed heart. _

_His father's eyes stared at him with a dark emptiness that shocked him. "You are a monster," he spat and, without an ounce of either guilt or love, he took the rapier that he'd hung on one of the walls. _

_Void of any hint of hesitation, the landlord attacked. Genesis' eyes flashed with hurt when he realized his father was lunging towards him, his intention clear in his dull eyes. He took out his own hybrid weapon –a mixture of a rapier and a broadsword- in time to parry the thrust aimed at his broken heart. _

_There was no doubt in his mind anymore. Dr. Hollander had spoken the truth and the couple before did not want him –perhaps they never had. How cruel reality seemed in the face of fate! _

_He called upon his own skill and in a second, he had the landlord of Banora –the man he'd mistakenly believed was his father- disarmed and at his mercy. _

"_Yes… I am a monster," Genesis stated tersely, fighting the tears that wished to bleed out of the wound inflicted. Could he not feel only anger? Must pain be ever present? "But be grateful that I still have a heart. For it is for the love I once harbored for you… that I shall not kill you."_

_He turned around, intent on leaving the place to never return, but a broken sob stopped him. He turned around, hope and confusion in his brow only to be splashed by blood –red and warm. _

_His eyes widened at the sight of his mother's form –life fleeing her- as his father maintained her upright with the hold of the rapier he'd plunged into her back. Tears, pure and rich, rolled down her high-cheekbones mingling with the string of blood coming out of the corner of her plumb lips. _

"_Genesis," she called to him, her eyes soft as she stared at him with profound emotion, "I… love…you." _

_Her husband pulled the sword out with a cold expression, his lips tight in a bleak line. Genesis moved forward, trapping the lifeless body of the one who'd truly loved him with his shaking arms._

"_Mom," he whispered it fiercely, the sound squeezing out through the lump in his throat. _

"_Pathetic," the landlord's voice rang uncontested, the disgusted tone filling the glass of Genesis' anger and making it spill out of his control. _

_Eyes flashing with feral madness, he gently lowered her body and turned to the monster that needed no genetic alteration to exist. Even nature could give birth to abominations, it would seem. The proof of that stared right back at him. _

"_I will not forgive you," Genesis seethed as he attacked with all his might, the blade of his sword raging with the fire of his very soul. (1) _

**Genesis** **Rhapsodos **shook his head to clear it from the perturbing images of the past. Dismally, he walked towards the garden that had bloomed in front of the entrance to his house. A group of rocks still lay there, in a pyramid hastily constructed. Only one body lay beneath, the other one having been burned down to scattering ashes.

"I love you too… mom," he whispered, touching the rocks with the same tender caress he'd given to her cold and pale cheek.

He stood up, pushing his sadness away as he made his way towards Angeal's house. If he was still alive, then he would certainly find clues as to where he was at the moment. Regardless of the dangers, Angeal would never fail to visit his house at least twice a year.

When he got there, he froze in place by the display that met his eyes. Outside his best friend's house, were two tombs standing side by side. His blue gaze moved from one to the other in complete and utter shock.

_No! _That was the only thing he was able to think as he stepped close enough to read what was carved on the grey, hard surface protruding out of the soft and colorful ground. (2)

Gillian Hewley, loving mother.

Angeal Hewley, loving son, white-winged angel.

Genesis closed his eyes as he kneeled before the resting place of his friend. He bowed his head as he realized his hope of seeing him again had just been taken away from him. It was also now that he understood his heart had known this even before he'd stepped out of the cave.

"Dreams of the morrow hath the shattered soul. Pride is lost. Wings stripped away, the end is nigh…" he repeated, as he allowed his tears to break free from his lids, rolling down his cheeks in one final farewell.

Just then he raised his eyes as a single, white feather was shed like a tear from the bright blue sky. Genesis opened his palm and held it out for the feather to fall upon. It did. Upon further inspection he noticed that the tip was slightly marred with blood. Despite the overwhelming sadness, despite the restless tears, despite his pain-shaking limbs, he smiled.

This was Angeal's final gift and his final goodbye.

Genesis sighed as he took out his book. He opened it again at a random page and read, "Legend shall speak, Of sacrifice at world's end, The wind sails over the water's surface, Quietly, but surely…"

Brushing one obstinate tear before it could roll and plunge into the inky page, he smiled again nostalgically. Placing the single, fragile feather in between the pages of the book, he closed it and carefully returned it to his pocket.

"Watch me, Angeal," he said, looking at the sky, "I shall protect my SOLDIER's honor and I shall make you proud."

A white dove flew just above his head when he made his vow and, as if in answer, he shed another white feather. This one, though, Genesis allowed the wind to take away.

**-o0o-**

**Cloud** **Strife **stopped abruptly, his motorcycle rumbling below him as he gazed at the ominous Sleeping Forest.

A determined look settled on his face as he narrowed his eyes. He knew that once he crossed the forest he would reach the place of waking dreams and shaking nightmares. Because, behind that dome of greens and browns, laid the Fogotten Capital, house of the ancients before their demise.

In there, he'd placed the body of the last of that doomed race to rest in an everlasting slumber. With her, however, he'd also lost part of himself. Indeed. A part of him had faded away the second she had closed her emerald eyes.

"Aerith," he murmured, placing a hand on his suddenly fast beating heart. Pain and a sense of something that he couldn't determine whether it was impeding disaster or blooming excitement accompanied it.

Cloud closed his eyes, mako blue hidden behind shaking lids. He stayed like that, almost like a statue as he thought about how he'd left Tifa and the kids behind. Would she forgive him?

By the time he opened his eyes, his mind was made. Tifa Lockart would understand, she always had and always would... right?

"Aerith," he mumbled as he reassumed his journey, "I am coming."

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**Story's Notes:**

(1) **About Genesis parents. **_It is never showed exactly what happened to his parents in Crisis Core. However, it is hinted that Genesis killed them. I couldn't quite picture him killing them both so I took a creative license with his past and did some tweaking. _

(2) **About Angeal's tomb.** _I know Zack killed him and that there was nothing left of him afterwards in Crisis Core. However, in here I've decided that shortly after that event, Zack goes to Banora village and makes a tomb for him beside his mother in an effort to put his spirit at rest and show his respect_.

**-o0o-**

**AN: **Please don't forget to **review! **


	9. Forgiveness

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any of its characters. I am just burrowing them for a while.

**Author's notes: **Hello everyone. Well, I want to thank all of you who review specifically for this chapter. Your reviews really helped me through my horrible week. At 1:00am after uploading the previous chapter, my **grandma** **Concepcion García** _died_. This chapter is dedicated to her loving memory.

**Quick replies to anonymous reviewers: **_Pandora Lockhart__(Glad you like the scene of SephxTif :p),__butterflyed-animegurl__(I am happy that you like my Genesis' scene. Also, don't worry, I won't discontinue this)__CNome__(Indeed, simple madness for Genesis past did not bode well with me. I am glad you also liked the SephsxTif scene). _

_Shanrock__(Thanks for the awesome compliment, you made me blush. I am glad to learn that I can make you feel with my writing!) __pearlwhite__(Thank you for the beautiful compliment, it made me blush. I am glad you are liking this so far and I appreciate leaving this wonderful message. My apologies for the grammatical mistakes. English is my second language but I am doing my best. I'll keep an eye on that, though). _

_Caz__(Aww, hope this chapter helps lift your uni stress –been there myself. Glad you approve of my Barret), __DRfoSwlT__ (I feel honored for your review, then, lol. Glad you like my characterization so far. I will do my best to keep everything and everyone believable),_ _Anon__ (Indeed, Tifa deserved much more credit than she gets. She is a great character. And yeah, I always like my stories to be 'big' plot-wise and I am glad you like)__**.**_

**Quick thanks to my logged-on reviewers:**_TroubledFred, IWOBYD, KCVII, Eva Von Dee, Selendrii, Ghedea, Kairi-loves-Sushi, narutofan1091, _and_ Kerttu__**.**_

**~Enjoy** and don't forget to **review**!

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"_If everything was an eye for an eye, the whole world would be blind."_

_-M. Gahandi-_

"**One Winged Angels"**

By: FenixPhoenix

**Chapter 9: "Forgiveness"**

**-In memory of Concepcion "Conchita" García. Loved you Grandma…still do.-**

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**Tifa Lockhart **had been forced to stay in bed two whole days due to her worn out body and dulled mind. After her talk with Sephiroth, she had plunged into an extremely troubled slumber that had resulted in a hazy delirium early the next day.

Not surprisingly, her bodily defenses had fallen thanks to how little attention she had paid to her plummeting health, therefore contracting what was commonly called 'the cold'.

The unwelcomed disease had her moaning and groaning for the longest of times, as a high fever shook her body and turned her once sharp mind into a mushy, barely usable blob.

With every muscle in her body weighting her down and protesting every time she attempted to move, she was bedridden by orders of her brain –or missing orders, since the ability to think past the ache in her limbs was close to impossible.

Surprisingly enough, it was 'the' Sephiroth Crescent who tended to her while in her dire and awfully vulnerable state. Though she remembered only some parts –and even then, those images seemed somewhat blurred- she couldn't help but appreciate how gently he'd taken care of her.

As soon as he noticed her fever, he'd been constantly –the ever so diligent warrior- checking up on her. More than once, his cool hand upon her brow had snapped her into a state of semi-awareness. He had eyed her with unhidden concern that first time and promptly asked her various questions she had been –naturally- unable to fully comprehend and which now she simply was incapable of remembering.

Probably realizing that she was not really herself, he stopped asking questions. Soon after, he'd brought a bowl of cold water to her bedside table and –after introducing a small towel in it- had pressed the wet cloth to her burning brow. The relief was mild but welcomed as he kept repeating the process in an effort to lower her fever.

"I think you've caught the cold," he'd stated grimly, his tone low and filled with what she guessed could only be guilt. Well, he did push her into a cold shower the night before, right? Never mind that she hadn't had the brightness of mind to simply move from beneath the frigid pelting.

Thus, those two days continued to roll by painfully slow for Tifa. Sephiroth –looking every hour less like the monster she'd thought he was for obvious reasons- kept silent vigil over her. He must have gone out to buy medicines at some point in time, because he'd given her pills to take when the afternoon began to fade that first day.

After that –probably thanks to his SOLDIER's steely discipline- he kept waking her every eight hours for her doze of pills and the accompanying bitter-tasting spoonful of medicinal syrup. He also kept changing the cool cloth on her forehead and –to top it all up- he even had the energy and will to cook three times a day.

Though at the time she hadn't noticed, now that she was better, she realized with astonishment that he'd been careful with what he'd cooked too. Tifa had the impression he may have done some research on the subject before even offering her that very first breakfast.

In the end, she'd eaten all kinds of soups, vegetable and cold fruits. He'd also been serving her lemon tea with honey instead of normal water to help her immune system combat the invading force. All in all, he'd kept her from getting dehydrated quite successfully because by today -third day which had come after what felt like an eternity – she'd woken up with renewed strength.

As soon as she wriggled free of the blankets, she noticed two negative things. One, she was still wearing the awkward attire Sephiroth had provided her. Two, after a couple of sweaty days, she had not taken a bath.

Now, she knew that to quickly remedy those two harms, she had but to step into the shower. Nevertheless, the problem resided in the fact that she had nothing else to wear! Perhaps her host had left her a dress somewhere around here?

Halfway through her search around the room, she spotted a change of woman's clothes –not hers- folded neatly in a chair. Unfolding the long sleeved camel-colored shirt and the black jeans, she realized that they were a perfect fit for her which would certainly imply they had been left here for her use.

As she turned again to the chair she noticed something else that made her brow furrowed. Taking the black, silky garments and leveling them to her eyes, she felt herself blushing madly.

It was already strange enough having Sephiroth buying her clothes, but this was close to inconceivable! Tifa was having an extremely hard time picturing the great General choosing lacy underwear for her from within a vast selection. Naturally, while attempting it, she ended up feeling as though her fever had returned full force.

Deciding best to just shove the embarrassing thought aside, she proceeded in taking a speedy and cold shower. When she was finally dressed and stepping out of the bathroom, she noted that she'd yet to hear or see Sephiroth.

Was he out, perhaps? Or maybe –as hard as that was to believe- he had overslept? She turned to the clock hanging on one of the walls. It was little past eight in the morning.

Combing her hair rapidly, she stole her way out of the room. A quick look at the coach in front of the TV, confirmed her second supposition. Sephiroth Crescent, ex-SOLDIER, ex-Monster, ex-Jenova's minion, ex-midnight customer was draped on the coach profoundly asleep.

Tifa Lockhart, curiosity getting the best out of her, moved towards him with measured steps so as to not perturb him. When she was near enough, she studied his passive face intently for a couple of minutes. He looked so… peaceful –other adjectives would have described him much better, but she was pointedly ignoring them as they filed through her head. A blush, however, quickly took residence on her cheeks.

Wishing to distract her mind from the wayward thoughts, she was about to leave him when something caught her attention –mainly the book lying open atop his chest. Taking it with nimble fingers, she read the title and almost gawked. The title pretty much said it all, "Nature Cure for Children's Diseases" by H.G. Bakner.

Flipping it open in the page he'd left a marker on, she couldn't help but smile amusingly. The chapter's title read: "The Common Cold". Carefully, she settled the book down by the nearby coffee table shaking her head in silent disbelief. She had figured he was a man who enjoyed knowledge and who plunged without a second thought into every kind of imaginable research material, but this she hadn't expected.

So he'd seriously taken his role as her -what? Guardian angel, keeper, bodyguard or- whatever he chose to call himself to heart, hadn't he? Tifa refocused her attention on his sleeping form.

It was in that instance she realized her hard gaze had softened without her permission and without her control. It was in that precise moment she realized that her heart had made the decision her mind had been unable –or maybe unwilling—to make. Despite how much he'd hurt her, she could not hate him. And because she could not hate him, she would not and could not brush him aside. Quite the opposite in fact, she was going to give him a chance at the only wish she was on the position of conceding. She would give him –doubtless- the opportunity to find and achieve redemption.

Did this then meant she had forgiven him? No. Truth was, she hadn't, but she was willing to try. Forgiving was a slow process –painful even- and as such, it was bound to take her time. However, she believed that the fact that she didn't hate him anymore spoke volumes about her newfound resolution.

Having acknowledged that, she picked up the blanket that had fallen to the floor and, gently, she draped it over his body. She held her breath when he stirred, thinking she had woken him. Yet, his breathing continued its even way, a clear sign that he was still soaring in the land of dreams.

Spinning on her heels, she moved towards the kitchen with the objective of making breakfast for them. Peeking through the cabinets –trying to carry on her task as soundlessly as possible- she found enough ingredients to attempt making good and simple old-fashion pancakes. Granted, she was not the best of cooks, but she reasoned she couldn't go wrong with something as uncomplicated as this. After all, hadn't she seen Denzel prepare them with ease for countless of times?

_Come on, Tifa! They are just pancakes! How hard can this possible be? _Confident her skill would suffice for the task at hand, she proceeded in getting to work. First, she took out a good-sized bowl. Then, she began dumping flour, salt, eggs and whatnot into the recipient –guessing at the adequate amounts she should use. After all, how bad could the result of a-little-too-much baking power be?

As she stirred everything together, her mind drifted into troubled thoughts of what loomed on her nearby future again. Wordlessly, she wondered what her friends would think of her right now. She was sure they would hardly approve of the fact that she was fraternizing with their former number-one enemy.

Would she be able to even blame them, though? No. That was not the right question to ask. What she ought to think about was if they would understand her decision after the whole situation was thoroughly explained to them.

Granted, she knew little about the whole thing herself –save for Sephiroth's true part in Jenova's big-bang scheme. And yet, that was enough to shift her mind from an uncertain stance to a firm side –Sephiroth's side.

Tifa sighed profoundly, as her furious stirring gradually slowed down. Now that she thought about it, her decision was not that surprising and she doubted that her friends' reaction would be harsh upon her –well, except maybe Cloud's. The thing was, Tifa's ability to empathize was almost genetically encoded in her blood and thus unable to be ignored.

Every member of Avalanche had –even if they were unaware of it- an unchangeable aspect in their personality. Hard as they might try to deny or ignore that aspect, when the time was right it would shine through a natural action or reaction.

Cid, for instance, had that roughness that allowed him to befriend any kind of person, no matter how different he or she might be. It was perhaps that innate ability –never learned nor lost- that had made even the aloof Vincent Valentine warm up to him enough to not mind his company.

Yuffie, for her part, had that childish mannerism that annoyed people before she actually grew –almost without their conscious knowledge- inside their reluctant hearts. Before they knew it, the annoying woman had become an enjoyable friend.

Barret had his boisterous attitude that either pushed away or pulled people to him depending on the circumstances. A thing which added to his fatherly affection to those he chose to take under his wing.

Reeve had his calculative mind, knowing when to give in and when to clutch at his selfishness, while always working on achieving a higher purpose than that of a mere individual's wellbeing.

Red had his valor, which shone the most when those near him were at risk of getting hurt. He would rather keep them safe by putting himself in harm's way.

Vincent Valentine had his self-imposed punishment, working the hardest to avoid his own mistakes to be repeated either by him or by another –even if by helping he ended up pushing people away with his seemingly-callous actions.

Aerith had her kindness, never blaming those around her and doing everything for those she unselfishly loved even at the cost of her very life.

And Cloud had his always-present sense of guilt, blaming himself for everything that did not go according to plan –even if those things had been out of his control to begin with.

In Tifa's case, she has her soft heart. The one organ within her body that –though scarred, broken and ill-treated—still remained unhardened, beating rhythmically for friends, companions, strangers and yes, even foes sometimes.

She sighed while bringing one hand to lie atop her chest, feeling her heart pounding in between her ribcage. She would worry about the future when the time came and not before that, she resolved. So, shaking her head, she switched her complete attention to her current task. With a deep frown, she studied the thick, yellowish paste on her bowl gingerly. She was not quite sure if this was how Denzel's had ended up looking like.

With a shrug of her shoulders, she proceeded in dumping some of it into the heated and already buttered grid. How grievous could her 'mildly' altered recipe for pancakes be?

**-o0o-**

**Sephiroth** **Crescent** floated amidst nothingness. He felt neither emotions nor physical contact as cool darkness met him at every turn. Suddenly, the expand of ground beneath his feet began glowing as the lifestream came into view. He was hovering just above the beautiful surface of blues and greens, the streams of souls swooshing by in an endless current.

Patently, he waited for the only being who could call him here to arrive. His body began to gradually feel a bit more solid, but not enough to lose its ethereal quality.

"Sephiroth, son of Jenova and human kind, one-winged angel," came the haughty greeting.

The ex-SOLDIER turned around to face the blue-eyed visage of Minerva, Gaia's supreme Goddess. "I need to ask you something," he said getting right to it. He had been hoping that he would be pulled to her presence again ever since his fight against Jenova's leeches.

Minerva tilted her head ever so slightly and her eyes sparkled gold, "Do you now?"

"Yes," he answered simply.

The Goddess lips parted into a knowing smile, "You wish to know why it's harder for you to use some of your powers. Particularly the ones linked to the Jenova cells within your body."

Sephiroth folded his arms across his powerful chest and smirked. He should have known she would most probably be capable of accessing his mind or something of that sort.

"Does it have to do with the fact that I became one with the lifestream –short as it was?" he enquired after a pregnant pause.

"Yes," she admitted as her eye color switched to bright crimson, "Jenova is the planet's enemy. As such, the lifestream laid siege to the Jenova cells within you."

"I need to access that power…fully," he stated solemnly.

Eyes a blue color she nodded in understanding. "You do realize that by fully reawakening Jenova's cells the possibility of her invading your mind would be viable," she warned.

Sephiroth closed his eyes as he reflected upon this. Sure, he'd thought about it before and –in some sense- the mere idea scared him. However, he needed the ability to sense other Jenova cells across far distances -especially considering his newest adversaries.

"I can handle it," he retorted, his voice filled with confidence. Now that he knew how Jenova's presence felt like, he was sure he would be able to counter it. After all, his powers had grown whereas hers had diminished the moment they were thrown into the lifestream for the second time. It was a simple matter of guarding his mind.

Minerva smiled again and nodded, "I believe in you and thus, it shall be done."

Sephiroth grunted when he felt an uncomfortable ache bursting inside his solar plexus. His body –suddenly feeling very solid- tensed as the Jenova cells where snapped awake and reignited to their full potential. After a couple of minutes of pain, he felt his former power coursing through his body and he knew the job was done.

"It will not be the same," Minerva admonished, "Jenova will no longer aid you. Though you have the power again, it will be much more difficult to use and much more tiring."

Sephiroth cracked his neck as he straighten, the pain gone. "It will be enough," he assured and flashed her a confident smirk.

The woman nodded, eyes a shade of purple, "Go now, Sephiroth. Protect the planet's heart and my most precious child."

With that he felt himself falling past the lifestream and the darkness all around. When he opened his eyes, it was to the feeling of a well-rested body and the sight of his apartment's plain ceiling.

A whispered chain of curses coming from the direction of the kitchen stole his immediate attention. He swung his legs to the floor and padded mutely towards the kitchen. The sight that met him–far from what he expected- made him smile crookedly with candid amusement.

Tifa was standing before the stove –a spatula in hand- and was trying to, unsuccessfully, wrench free a black blob that was practically glued to the heated pan. Flour covered the tip of her nose and part of her chin. As he studied her, he noticed that she was wearing the clothes he had purchased for her. He was glad they were a perfect fit since he'd given his guess at her measurements to one of the clerks who had then chosen the outfit.

He frowned slightly as he wondered if she was feeling better. Now that he thought about it, what was she trying to even do? A quick scan at the mess in the counter provided enough information to venture a guess.

She was attempting to make… pancakes maybe?

When his nose sniffle smoke, he knew that was his cue to intercept before she burnt down his whole kitchen. With swift movements, he made his way towards her. He heard her gasping when –standing right behind her- his hand lashed out to twist the handle of the stove. Before she was able to even turn around, his other hand moved to touch her forehead. Unheedingly, he pulled her caught-off-guard body towards him, until her back was pressed firmly against his chest.

His thoughts, nevertheless, revolved not around how easily her body molded to his –because it did. No. His mind was too busy worrying about her health to be able to process those other facts.

And why did his concern seemed so sound? Well, because naturally she had to have a fever for her to be unable to perform as simple a task as this, right?

So it would not be an understatement if he were to reveal that he was astounded when he noted her temperature was back to normal. Confusion slowly crawled its way into his features when at last he stepped back to give her room to turn to face him.

Her cheeks were blushed which caused him to again step forward to take her temperature. Well, it was slightly warmer.

"What are you doing!" she asked somewhat breathlessly, slapping his hand away.

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow at her odd behavior, "I am checking your temperature. Your face is a little red."

The comment only caused her features to redden even more, the color creeping to her neck and disappearing down the collar of her shirt. Sephiroth found this increasingly intriguing.

"I'm fine!" she alleged when he attempted to again place his hand on her forehead, "I'm just… you know!"

He tilted his head at a complete loss. He'd heard and even read often enough that women were strange and complicated creatures, but it was not until now he fully appreciated the statement.

"I do?" he prompted, not caring to hide his building amusement and truly curious as to what she would answer.

Her jaw clenched visibly but still she responded between gritted teeth, "Embarrassment equals blush!"

He frowned slightly at that. He'd never really felt embarrassment before –except for that one time he'd gotten drunk- so he would have to take her word for it.

"Hmph…," he let his eyes wander once again through the mess in the kitchen and, glancing back at her, he noticed her face was even more flustered. Odd as the thought was, he couldn't help but silently acknowledge that the blush suited her.

Tifa shifted under the weight of his stare with what he guess was something between nervousness or –as she had previously confirmed- embarrassment.

"May I enquire as to what endeavor you were perusing?" he asked casually, fully aware that he was walking into unknown territory. Even with the vast knowledge he had gathered through his light reading material –mainly novels- he was still unsure as to how to proceed. After all, fictional stories did not provide as trusty information as, say, a scientific book did.

All the same, he attempted to make his question sound as innocent as possible so as to avoid insulting her cooking skills –or lack thereof. Tifa sighed with defeat and lowered her eyes for a second, attesting the damaged done. He knew just then that his words had not offended her… _yet_.

"Pancakes are hard," she confided after a while, her eyes refocusing on his and her blush holding its ground.

Sephiroth was uncertain as to how best to respond. Obviously, pancakes were not hard –at least not for him and the vast majority of the population. But the voice of common sense –that which had learnt the most out of his light reading- began flashing red flags at the thought of remarking upon that.

Not really knowing what to do or who to listen to –his SOLDIER voice or his 'Midnight customer' voice—he decided best to simply take action. Well, wasn't it said that 'actions spoke louder than words' after all? Thus, nodding curtly once her way before taking out another bowl, he got to work.

"I'll make breakfast," he offered and noticing how she began chewing on her lower lip, he added, "You are welcome to help."

A smile spread across her face and he was taken aback. Her change from the last time they had had a coherent conversation was huge and brisk –though in a positive way. Did this then meant she had made a decision in regards to him?

As if having read his thoughts, she suddenly spoke. "You were right when you said that 'we have all sinned and we all wish for forgiveness'", she quotes, her voice calm and clear. "I understand now the part I play on your redemption journey." She turned to him, her eyes sparkling with resolution, "I even accept it and am willing to help you in as much ways as I can."

Sephiroth felt part of the weight upon his back being lifted by her words. It was not until now he understood the strength of her heart. _So, this is what Minerva felt…_

Before he could say something or at least extend his appreciation, she continued, "But what role do I play in your revenge, Sephiroth Crescent?"

Her voice was solemn but not reproachful, and Sephiroth knew she was waiting for him to offer his knowledge on the subject before making a decision or passing down judgment. He was grateful for that and, as he resumed his cooking, he told her of his unusual encounter with Minerva without leaving any detail out –especially those that concerned her.

**-o0o-**

**Reeve Tuesti **stepped inside the hastily assembled laboratory. He was tired and consequently in the brink of crankiness. The idea that Barret was due sometime today was far from helping in lightening his sour mood.

Sitting before a computer displaying an outrageous amount of ant-size letters that composed precious data was Rie. She had her wavy locks braided to keep them out of her face as her mismatched eyes roved through the information unblinking.

Her regular –and quite odd- attire was hidden below the white lab coat he had successfully forced her to use after a week of working for them. Lab regulations, he had explained.

"Rie," he greeted, as he strolled towards her with his hands clasped behind him. The woman turned to him with her usual impassive expression.

"Reeve," she called back blankly and he was sure she had no idea how to act now. Socially awkward was the eloquent way he had come up with to describe her strange behavior.

The thing was, she was a newborn baby when interacting with people, not really realizing that her curt replies and sharp remarks were considered rude to almost everyone. Reeve, however, had gotten used to her tactfulness rather quickly. Still, there was a lot he had yet to teach her in regards to society's rules –things that one normally learned through time from parents, guardians, family and even friends.

Whether Rie had once upon a time a family or not, Reeve had yet to find out. However, considering she was one of ShinRa's guinea pigs, he would not be shocked if she had grown up surrounded by indifferent and cold scientists as her only social links.

"Please tell me you've learn something useful since the last time I came," his voice almost begged when he was towering her, his eyes trying to make sense of the gibberish the computer was displaying. Maybe he was truly tired. He knew he was clever enough to understand all this, only his mind seemed reluctant to work at a higher degree than its average potential.

"I believe you are using the term 'useful' in a most subjective way. Could you be more precise?"

Reeve sighed and began massaging his temples, "Have you found anything that would help us discover who attacked Tifa's – the Seventh Heaven bar?"

"Ah, yes," she stood up swiftly and took a folder from atop a nearby desk. Reeve went to her when she offered it to him.

"What's this?" he asked, trying not to groan at the amount of papers inside.

"A folder," she deadpanned with a frown.

"I know that," he replied crisply.

"Then why did you asked?"

Reeve sighed again. No matter how many times he'd tried to teach her, she was still far from understanding that some things were not meant in the literal way. Even as brilliant as she was, the concept of figurative thinking was proving to be extremely hard for her to grasp.

"Never mind, Rie," he sighed in defeat. "Can you highlight to me the most important things this document presents?"

Rie nodded, understanding wiping her frown as she began reciting in a monotone voice the most important aspects of her research so far. "The hair we found in the scene had enough follicle and therefore enough live cells to test for DNA. I analyzed the non-coding region of DNA –checking the variable number of tandem repeats- and managed to identify the tampering of the genetic code of the individual. A good amount of Jenova cells still remained somewhat pure," she informed, pointing at a chart with various figures in the papers Reeve held. "My guess –based on my findings so far- is that that the owner must have been injected with untainted cells –otherwise referred to as 'mother cells'- at an early stage of life."

"Wait, Rie! …Does this mean… was Sephiroth truly here?" He felt his heart drumming loudly with something akin to fear. It was already bad enough to hear that Sephiroth had apparently been spotted in Seventh Heaven, but to find hard proof of it was even worst.

"I do not know about that," she swiftly corrected, "This hair is not his if that is what you were mistakenly thinking. I compared this to his DNA if only to keep your mind at ease. However, I am positive I told you that the cells were injected in the host at an early stage of life, didn't I?"

"Sephiroth was injected at an early stage of life," Reeve countered a bit peeved by how the woman's tongue had practically slashed at his I-am-incredibly-bright reputation.

"You are mistaken. Sephiroth was never injected. I checked," she said, her voice stoic, "The one who was injected was professor Lucrecia Crescent. The cells then passed on to Sephiroth when he was conceived through Lucrecia's own body -in the natural, non-tampered way."

"Alright," the WRO's leader conceded pinching the bridge of his nose, "So the owner of this hair was directly infused with the cells?"

Rie nodded, "Sometime between the ages of three to six."

Reeve felt the back of his neck aching painfully as his nerves began to ball in what was commonly referred to as nerve-wrecking 'stress'. This new information gave way to many unwelcomed branches of possibilities. Most of which he was unwilling to consider. Unsurprisingly, those were the ones that made the most sense.

"So… there are more remnants of Project J still?" he murmured absently, the muscles of his arms tensing in reflex as he crossed them.

"Well, ShinRa's scientists were working on various experiments. The owner of this hair could be a product of Project J but it can also be a result from any number of other projects. It is faulty to try to reach a definite conclusion with so little evidence."

Cait Sith's owner bit back a growl at Rie's lack of common courtesy and her innocent yet slightly annoying rudeness. Reminding himself that she was not trying to purposely irritate him –unlike a certain Ninja always did—he calmed down enough so as not to lash out at the oblivious twenty-two year old woman.

"What else can you tell me about the owner?" he enquired after a pause, his tired gaze scanning the information within the folder somewhat absently.

"He is healthy. No drugs or alcohol. By the appropriate distribution of vitamins, my guess is he keeps a strict diet."

"So he's a SOLDIER then," he concluded as his mind absorbed and analyzed the information relayed so far. _It would make sense. After all, hadn't they said that black-clad SOLDIERs were part of the invading force?_

"You are speculating," Rie accused, "there is no scientific proof in your statement."

"Call it an educated guess," Reeve smiled, placing a hand atop Rie's head in an affectionate way.

She stared at him unblinkingly for a second before moving back to her computer. Reeve followed her when she gave him a pointed look that he had come to refer as her 'why are you not coming' look.

Her fingerless-gloved hands moved to type an order into the system. Immediately after, a window appeared with a video the news channel had been broadcasting every few hours. It showed two silver-haired individuals fighting Bahamut Zero with deadly efficiency.

Rie paused the video and pointed at the largest figure, "I believe this is the owner of the hair."

"Are you certain?" he asked, as he studied the humongous profile with renewed concern.

Rie shrugged, "Call it an educated guess."

"Reall?"

"No."

He sighed.

"I used visual confirmation," she proceeded to explain, "While not a hundred percent accurate, it is fairly close."

Despite his tiredness, Reeve Tuesti smiled openly at her. She never changed…

"Good job. You should get some sleep, though. I can see the shadows of half-moons under your eyes," he admitted, taking her chin between his fingers to inspect her face.

Rie stepped back from him and shrugged off her white coat revealing that strange outfit that she seemed so fond off. She was wearing black pants that would have been fine if not for the fact that the right leg ended just beneath her knee, exposing her suntan skin. Her sandals were black and she was wearing dark-brown leather guards on her legs.

She nimbly clasped her kodachi –a small but sharp sword- on her lower back, right above her leather belt which, in turn, held a small pouch on the side.

The top part of her body was clad in a white, cotton short-sleeve shirt. A small jacket reaching down her ribs was above it. It was black with brown patches of leather on the shoulders and on the back. It was presently zipped closed on the front. Her right sleeve, however, was long –so long it was folded back on her wrist by a silver button- whereas her left one was short, covering only up to a quarter above her elbow.

"You are heeding my advice very willingly today," Reeve noted with a bit of suspicion as he watched the woman unbraiding her hear and placing her 'pirate' patch on her scarred eye. She was still uncomfortable by the amount of attention her mismatched gaze –and the deep horizontal scar across her right silver eye—attracted.

_Now, why would you hide your wound if you are going to sleep, Rie?_

"You have misunderstood my intentions," she declared as she walked past him. "I am going to visit the scene. Perhaps I can find something the sweeping team missed."

Reeve watched her go mutely. When the door had closed behind her, he allowed his brow to furrow with suspicion. He'd known her now for a little more than a couple of years, yet he still couldn't make her open up to him. And even if she'd done nothing but help them out, Reeve Tuesti could not help but feel the shadow of distrust settle on his mind whenever he left her on her own.

She was hiding something, that much was for certain. What he couldn't decide was whether that thing she was withholding was personal or if it –directly or indirectly- involved more people than just her. After all, this was ShinRa they were talking about…

_Just what are you hiding, Rie? _

**-o0o-**

**Nanaki **perked up from where he had been lying lazily beside his mate, Deneh (1). Following the whole meteor incident, she had come to extend her apologizes to him. It was expected, though. If it was not for him protecting her, she would have been the one with the XIIIth number tattooed on her shoulder.

It was perhaps that joyous reunion that brought them together so that now, neither could ever picture their life without one another.

"What is it, Nanaki?" she asked, noticing with concern how his fur began to stand on end, especially the long mane of his back.

"Something's coming," Nanaki seethed, his ears folded back on his skull as his system responded to the oncoming threat.

A dark, spiky haired man appeared atop one of the canyons surrounding them. He was dressed in white shorts that reached past his knees and a brown shirt with an open beige jacket made of leather. A sharp kama (2) in each hand, he regarded them coldly through small, silver eyes.

"Number XIII, do not resist," he warned, the tenor of his voice draped with an almost boyish quality. The steeliness of his eyes, however, belied his young appearance.

Nanaki growled in response as he crouched low. By his side he sensed Deneh doing the same.

"Deneh, leave us. I need you to warn the elders of Cosmo Canyon of this," Nanaki's voice left no room for argument.

Not wanting to leave him but knowing that she would be more of a hindrance if she were to stay, she yielded after some hesitation. "Stay safe and return to me, Nanaki," she whispered before –with the characteristic quick speed reserved for their race- she disappeared from view.

"Who are you?" Nanaki asked as the young warrior jumped down from his perch.

The distance was impressively long and thus an indentation was left where his feet connected with the hard ground. Yet, the stranger seemed unfazed and unhurt as he stood to his full 5'6 height.

"Oriel," he introduced, raising one hand and pointing the tip of the curved blade at him, "I came for mother's cells."

**To be Continued… **

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**Story's Notes:**

_**(1)**__**Deneh:**__ The only other survivor of Nanaki's race, she appeared in Before Crisis when she was supposed to be doing a ritual with Nanaki. Red was uncertain of the ritual and she called him a coward. Suddenly they were attacked by the Turks (who were ordered to capture one of them for Hojo's experiments). Nanaki defends Deneh and ends up being taken in her place. She is also believed to be the one who has cubs with Nanaki (ending of FFVII). _

_**(2)**__**Kumas:**__ Harvest tools often used as weapons in feudal japan. They consisted of a long stick with an 11-12 inches crescent-arc blade sticking out of one of its ends. Picture small scythes. _

**-o0o-**

**AN: **I know this chapter was lighter than the others, but I wasn't feeling up for too much angst. This will also marks the beginning of Tifa's growing relationship with Sephiroth. If you liked the chapter, please do not forget to **review** and make my day.


	10. Revelations

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any of its characters. I am just burrowing them for a while.

**Author's notes:** Thank you so very much for those who offer their condolences. It really meant a lot.

Now, here's a quick thanks and reply to the anonymous reviewers: _**CNome **__(Glad you like the small humor I included from Sephiroth. And no, Rie is a OC but I am glad you would think she is cannon –I guess I did a good job, right? Also, thanks for pointing out the mistakes.), __**Caz **__(Glad to know you like SephxTif's relationship so far. Breaks from uni are good :p), __**DRfoSwlT **__(Lol. I guess you got me here. I really didn't remember that quote from Wedge, so I did come up with something to correct this inconsistency later on. Thanks for pointing it out. Glad you also like my OCs and I agree with your Cloud comment, lol.), __**Anne Nonimus **__(Thanks!), __**Shanrock **__(I agree, poor Tifa. Hopefully, she will get some needed help from everyone now. Thank you and hope you continue to enjoy!) and __**Pearlwhite**__ (Thank you so much for your words. I am glad you are enjoying it so far and some questions will be answered eventually). _

Quick thanks to my logged-on readers: _**Kairi-loves-sushi, butterfly-aquamaiden28, Selendrii, Ghedea, IWOBYD, KCVII, **_ and _**narutofan1091**_.

**Enjoy** and don't forget to **review**!

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"_The best way to destroy an enemy is to make him a friend."_

_-Abraham Lincon-_

"**One Winged Angels"**

By: FenixPhoenix

**Chapter 10: "Revelations"**

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**Tifa Lockhart** stared hard at the liquid caged in her ceramic cup. Tendrils of white vapor came out of the tea Sephiroth had offered her after breakfast. Everything that had happened over the last few days was now cramped inside her almost saturated mind.

It was too hard to believe that she had been chosen by Minerva –the supreme Goddess of Gaia— during her short voyage inside the lifestream. In fact, it made absolutely no sense to her! Why would the planet's mighty guardian choose her out of all the possible warriors at her disposal?

Surely, Cloud would have been a better choice! Even Aerith would have been more worthy than her! After all, the pinked-clothed healer had already proven her strength by sacrificing herself for the planet's survival. And if Minerva had brought Sephiroth back to life, then maybe she could also revive the cetra, right?

As self-doubts began to raid her confidence, Tifa began chewing on her lower lip. She was drowning. Tidal waves of dozens of reasons that would explain why the Goddess had definitely made a mistake, crashed upon her reluctant mind with ruthless force. Obviously, Minerva had 'overestimated' her! Never mind that she was a supreme being, and therefore incapable of making mistakes, in this situation the Goddess 'had' to be wrong!

Tifa knew her strength was above average, she had no doubts about that. However, she would be conceited if she were to believe for a second that she was the strongest or the kindest person on Gaia. No. It was simply wrong for her to accept being held in such high regards! Especially when she knew she was just an ordinary woman, an average-skilled warrior with absolutely nothing special to offer.

"There must be some sort of mistake," she voiced her feeling, her wine orbs boring into the male's blue-green ones. She didn't even try to mask the distress in her voice as she waited tersely for his opinion.

Sephiroth frowned at her for a second before the creases on his forehead smoothed out, as though he'd realized what she was getting at.

"There is no mistake," he assured straightforward.

Of course the great General would say that. How can he –almighty Sephiroth- possibly be mistaken in his dream/vision/interpretation, right?

"If I am the planet's hope…" she began, her hands clasping her cup tightly as memories of her numerous failures seemed to consider it necessary to dance mockingly inside her head at the moment. "Then… I am afraid we are most certainly doomed."

Tifa almost swayed under the powerful stare Sephiroth gave her. She automatically began chewing on her lower lip again, a clear sign of her nervousness. She was about to lower her gaze –unable to maintain eye contact any longer- when he spoke.

"You underestimate yourself, Tifa," he stated, sipping at his drink calmly. His eyes never left hers and he allowed her to see that he was voicing his honest opinion on the matter. This was, by no means, a social compliment.

The look of trust, and what she could only describe as slight admiration, he sent her way made her blush and lower her eyes. Focusing in the green tea she had yet to taste, she reminded herself that Sephiroth was not a person who gave compliments offhandedly. In fact, he was a person who mostly kept his thoughts to himself, or so she had heard before his psychotic-Jenova-induced breakdown.

_So then… why did he say that? _She asked herself, incapable of believing his words so readily. At least not yet. "There are probably a thousand people stronger than me. Brighter. Kinder…" she trailed off, knowing she didn't have to draw a detailed picture for him.

It was a bit unsettling, really. Could he not see what she did? Was he that blind to something that was so evident to her? The shoes Minerva had given her were simply too big for her to fill! There has been a mistake. There was no other explanation that would make sense.

"I am sure you are right," he granted suddenly.

The unexpected statement made her look back at him in slight confusion. So, if he was agreeing with her, then what were they supposed to do now? Could he ask Minerva to choose someone else, perchance?

"However," he continued unperturbed once her attention was exclusively on him, "I am also aware that we are all unique, irreplaceable and unrepeatable. You, Tifa Lockhart, possess a combination of traits that Minerva deemed worthy to trust the fate of the planet upon. Who are we to question that?"

"But—"

He raised a hand to stop her and it worked. "I admit that what has been placed on your shoulders is a very heavy burden to bear," he continued coolly, "The fact that you can't carry it alone doesn't mean you have failed or were chosen incorrectly. It simply means that you understand that only a group of individuals working together can achieve the extraordinary."

Despite her nagging doubts, despite the nervousness and fear creeping inside her, Tifa Lockhart smiled at the man. How ironic that it was the very man who had hurt her the most the one that now offered a most needed comfort…'again'.

A short and tensed –for her part at least- ensured silence.

"You'll help me…right?" she felt the need to ask, to search for reassurance and to know she would not tread the dangerous path ahead on her own.

The ex-SOLDIER nodded, "Yes, I will willingly carry the burden with you."

"Because you made a deal with Minerva," Tifa finished, astounded to hear her tone somewhat dry and curt. Where the hell had that come from?

The General made her arch both eyebrows in silent query when he shook his head in denial.

"I confide that at first it was 'merely' a task, a lane that would lead to redemption and revenge," his gaze became so very intense that Tifa felt like squirming under it. Though she knew that to recover her composure she had but to look away, she couldn't.

She realized just then that she was his prisoner… and she was drowning in the exotic color of his eyes. Eyes that –she noticed with interest- reminded her strongly of the lifestream. Green shades softly kissing blues.

"…And now?" she prompted fairly hesitant when an awkward pause followed his incomplete statement.

"Now it is my wish to protect you," he deadpanned without a trace of shyness or embarrassment. How the man maintained his face straight after that was beyond her.

Tifa's brain, to her distress, seemed unable to grasp those simple words because of their rather complex meaning. It was odd how something as frank scared and excited her as nothing ever did before and perhaps nothing ever would.

_He killed your father, _the bitter part of her reminded him, but Tifa barely took that into account. Fact was, the last one who had vowed to protect her so openly -and truthfully?- had been Cloud Strife when they were kids…

Knowing he was waiting for an answer or at least an outward reaction, Tifa struggled for something intelligent to say. Thus, making full use of her extremely sharp communications skills, she said the only thing that could successfully –and without a doubt- convey her present state of mind.

"Huh?"

The General chuckled softly. The sound was so unusual and yet so very fitting even in a man who had been taught emotional displays were undesirable and reproachable. His mako eyes glinted with unhidden amusement –if only for a second- as he kept his gaze on her. After a moment, though, he sobered up. Slowly, he leaned forward, shifting his weight onto the elbows he had placed on the table before him.

"I can count with the fingers of one hand the amount of people who had surprised me, inspired me, won my respect and my admiration. And even then, it took them years." His eyes soften a tiny bit, and Tifa felt her –almost permanent- blush rising in strength.

She gulped and her hands began playing absently with the sleeves of her shirt as she waited with anticipated stillness for him to continue.

His lips parted into a small but genuine smile –the same one she'd last seen when he was still her midnight customer. "Tifa Lockhart, you have done it all and it only took you weeks. It would be a great loss for humanity if something were to happen to you. So naturally I -as a SOLDIER, as one of Gaia's guardians, as a selfish man even- cannot allow that to happen. You understand now why I've chosen to help you –protect you?"

"I… don't… I…," she stuttered, unable to come up with something witty –or at least coherent- to say. She saw his crooked smile widening slightly as his eyes again glinted with honest amusement. He leaned back on his seat, his cup empty.

"The question is, would you allow me to help you, Tifa?" he asked and she was glad that his newest query was easier to answer.

"O-of course," she consented with a smile.

The martial artist saw surprise flash in his orbs, probably at being in the receiving end of one of her candid smiles, and she congratulated herself for catching him off guard.

Recovering rapidly, he stood up and began clearing the table, "Good then."

Tifa stood up and began helping him gather the items. Then, she followed him into the kitchen. Dumping the dishes into the sink, Sephiroth began to wash them methodically. Tifa grabbed a nearby rag and –before he knew it- took the clean plate from his hand to dry it. He regarded her for a silent while in open wonderment before resuming his task.

"Sephiroth," she called, tasting his name with a voice empty of negative feelings. Perhaps she was imagining it, but it sounded so much nicer.

"Yes?" he prompted when she didn't continue.

_He killed your father, _the bitter voice inside of her persisted. This time, instead of ignoring it, her other part took note of it and responded accordingly.

_I know._

_So what? You will just forgive that –ignore it?_

_No, _her gentler side –that which always saw the good in people—corrected, _I can never forgive the act. But the man I can forgive._

"Tifa?" his smooth baritone snapped her off her silent monologue.

She turned to him and smiled, "Thank you."

She saw his brows arching and his body tensing in absolute shock. She was pretty sure he hadn't been expecting her to say that. She couldn't blame him either. Even a small part of her was caught off guard by her sudden words, though that didn't make them any less real.

Sephiroth turned his attention back to the dishes shaking his head slightly, as if to dissipate his unbelief. "No, Tifa. I should be the one thanking you for giving me a second chance," he said, offering her the other dish for her to dry. "Hmph… I find it intriguing, though."

She frowned, "What?"

"That you would ever wonder why Minerva was awed when she felt the power of your heart."

The martial artists blinked twice as his words registered. She took the cup being offered almost absently.

"Ah…I…" she was at a complete loss as to how to respond to that, something that seemed to be happening much too often for her comfort.

"Like I've said before," Sephiroth commented, sparing an interested glance her way, "I think the planet is in good hands."

The brunette could do nothing but smile at him. At some point in time, as she reflected upon everything calmly, her heart realized that maybe…just maybe he was right…

**-o0o-**

**Vincent Valentine** had been wandering aimlessly –helping as many people as he could along the way- ever since the attack on Edge by the three silver-haired 'brothers'. His meeting with young Marlene had opened his eyes to the stupidity of his former way of living.

What good could dwelling and drowning in guilt and self-pity inside the Forbidden Forest possibly accomplish? Granted, part of him still blamed himself for not protecting Lucrecia –even if it was from her own delusional dreams. However, was doing nothing but sulk the path he ought to walk to attain his deliverance?

Surely that couldn't be the case. Surely he was still in this planet –alive and well—because fate had decided that he could still serve a purpose. So it was with both eagerness and a sense of fright that when Chaos began to shift restlessly within him -as he traveled through the land of Cosmo Canyon- the gunslinger chose to interpret this as a sign that he was needed.

Following what he could only describe as 'raw intuition', he glided at a speed that would easily match –and maybe even surpass- Cloud's prided motorcycle. With his pointy boots barely touching upon the hard ground, he sped towards an unknown direction as adrenaline began to pump through his veins. The sudden sense of danger surrounding him –embracing him was almost palpable.

After almost ten minutes of strained emotions and quick movements, he came upon the space between two canyons encasing the sound of a heated battle. Lowering his speed somewhat warily, he approached the hostile pair.

Vincent's crimson eyes widened when he recognized Nanaki as one of the fighters. The red tiger's fur sported darker patches of colors that indicated he was bleeding from a good number of cuts which were –much to his concern- not all shallow. Valentine didn't have to study the situation any longer to make a decision. What he saw was all he needed to know. Nanaki was in trouble.

He took out Death Penalty from the hostler of his leg and aimed carefully at the tiger's opponent. He hesitated when he noticed the boyish looks of the black-haired male. But when the boy raised the sharp blade of his weapon and was about to bring it down on Nanaki's exposed and vulnerable back, all reservations immediately vanished.

Narrowing his eyes, the ex-Turk pulled the trigger and let his silver bullet fly. Pliiiiing. The sound seemed to echo loudly as the boy –hearing the weapon spitting out the bullet- moved his blade in time to intercept the projectile that would have otherwise pierced his guts.

Mako grey eyes turned to gaze at his mako red ones passively. There was no surprise within the steely stare of the boy. If anything, it had registered mild confusion before it was replaced by his previous emptiness.

"Vincent," Nanaki, for his part, did not even attempt to conceal his surprise. Or the relief that showed in his dark eyes right after the shock dwindle away.

"Why is he fighting you, Nanaki?" Vincent asked, moving towards the injured beast he had come to refer to as his friend, while not taking his eyes away from the unanimated figure of the boy.

Odin, the young cub could be no older than fifteen years of age! The shining of the eyes, however, troubled Vincent because it indicated the boy had been showered with mako energy for a good portion of his life. Of course, that simple fact tied him with the cursed ShinRa corporation –more specifically the division of SOLDIER or human research, aka guinea pigs.

_This can't be good, _he realized as he regarded the boy scrupulously. Chaos, for a second time that day, shifted within him with almost feral passion, but Vincent was careful to keep him under control.

"I came for mother's cells," the boy spoke, his tone raspy. It made the gunslinger wonder if he used it all that much. Steel grey bore into blood red as the boy warned, "Do not interfere."

The gunslinger raised his weapon again and aimed it at the younger male undaunted. He felt Chaos getting even more agitated as he did this, roaring inside of him to be left out. Vincent, however, reined the powerful entity in, submitting him by using the protomateria embedded on his chest –Lucrecia's parting gift. Though the demon's strength could come in handy, the last the gunslinger needed was Chaos raging havoc all around while he was still unsure about his opponent's origins.

But why would this boy in particular get under Chaos' skin just as easily as Sephiroth did?

"Jenova cells…" Vincent mumbled after a slight pause, his words addressed mostly to his own self as he tried to come up with a plausible explanation.

"Mother," the boy's eyes narrowed dangerously but he said nothing more as his muscles tensed in preparation for battle.

"Vincent, be careful," Nanaki growled, finally regaining his feet. "He may not look like much but he is quick and deadly."

The gunslinger nodded curtly and before he could ask the feline anything else, the boy had lunged towards them both –kumas gripped tightly on each hand and ready to deliver pain. The dance of death began as the three figures twirled around each other. Parrying, thrusting, clawing, piercing and shooting with baffling rapidness.

Vincent found soon enough that Nanaki had been correct. The boy moved with liquid speed, his body flowing gracefully as if gravity had made an exception for him. Furthermore, he realized, somewhat annoyed, that the boy matched their speed –something that had to be commended since the tiger and him were the fastest of the group, surpassing even the Jenova-injected Cloud.

When the boy parried his golden claw, Vincent back flipped out of the way of his second blade –missing it by a mere inch. He came down on a crouch and was about to try again when Nanaki –who had been kicked and thrown out of the way earlier- ran past him with bullet speed.

He noticed his window of opportunity when the big feline's jaw closed on one of the blades –the sharp edge slicing the corner of his mouth a millimeter before being stopped by hard teeth. Vincent knew he had to be quick. Hesitation or lack of poise would mean certain doom for the sturdy feline.

The boy raised his other kuma, ready to plunge it into the skull of his attacker, but Vincent took aim and pulled the trigger before that could be done. Letting out a grunt of pain, the boy's grip on both his weapons faltered as the bullet pierced through his free arm. He staggered back a few steps with confusion filling his grey orbs as he inspected his wound critically.

Nanaki also moved back, one of the kumas still held between his teeth, not wishing to leave it in a place where the younger male could retrieve it–especially after the effort it took to disarm him.

"You… shot me?" the boy stared blankly at the gunslinger, almost as though the concept of being wounded was too complicated for him to grasp.

Vincent was not about to let him dwell on that for longer, though. Raising his weapon, he fired again –this time aiming for his head. He did not wish the boy to suffer more than was necessary, even if he had no qualms about killing them.

Pliiiiing. The silver bullet connected and bounced off a green-glowing shield that had suddenly enveloped the wounded fighter.

"Oriel, sweetie," a honey-layered voice drawled as a brunette woman jumped down from her perch upon one of the upper rocks that protruded out of the canyon's walls. High-heeled brown boots clattered against the hard ground as she made her way towards the unmoving boy, hips swaying seductively.

Each step given made her white, long skirt open on the left side to reveal a long, shapely leg from the mid-thigh down. It was too odd a sight to find a woman dressed like that on a battlefield. In reaction to her sudden appearance, the feline and the older male gave a step back, guardedly regarding what was happening.

The bleeding boy turned to the voluptuous woman almost uninterestedly, his confusion –like before- already gone. Pointedly ignoring Vincent and Nanaki, the tall woman towered the shorter boy, one of her hands holding her staff in a relaxed fashion. The fact that the colors of her attire matched the boy's did not go unnoticed by the trained eye of the former Turk.

"Are you alright, sweetie?" she asked as her brown mako eyes swept the boy from head to feet and back again. "Oh, you're shot!"

The boy turned his attention to his wound again. He touched the bleeding area gingerly, his face passive the entire time. Then, he brought his crimson fingers near his eyes. The look on his face made Vincent guess that–peculiar as that was— he could simply not understand what was happening to him.

"Don't worry your little head over this trifle thing," the woman cooed, placing a peach hand atop his head. The female suddenly leaned forward so that she was eye level with the kuma-wielder, unabashedly revealing a lot of cleavage that the brown top -beneath her beige, thin jacket- could not conceal. "Your lovely sister Jezebel will take care of you in no time, Ori!" she assured caressing his cheek with mock or affection –Vincent was not sure.

That said she straightened and finally spared a glance at them. Her brown eyes smoldered when they settled on the tensed gunslinger and her swollen-looking lips parted in a coy smile.

"You did this to my poor lil' brother?" she enquired with a low-toned voice as she turned to face them completely.

Vincent felt his hair stand on end. There was something positively evil in the woman that was hard to miss. Studying her attentively, he realized that her gaze was alight with mako energy too. Before he could spare a word of warning to Nanaki, the female's entire body was encased in a greenish light as she called forth her magic. She muttered softly beneath her breath, closing her eyes as she planted her staff between her feet.

Vincent was about to shoot at her in order to interrupt the spell, but she opened her eyes and he knew he was too late.

"Comet!" she yelled as the clouds above parted to let through various oncoming objects. Indeed, not one but more than a dozen comets were soon raging down from the sky.

Red XIII and the former Turk were quick on their feet as they concentrated on dodging the powerful attack. Hard as they tried, they were unfortunately unable to avoid all the fiery rocks and were left hissing curses when the projectiles connected painfully.

When the sky returned to normal, they found their bodies marked in numerous places by bruises, cuts and burnt marks. Thankfully, Vincent found that his wounds –thought distractedly painful- were not serious. After his self-inspection, red eyes immediately zeroed on the place where his opponents had been standing only to find it completely empty. Cursing himself inwardly at not having sensed the evil witch approaching them, he was about to commence his search when the sound of a body crashing against the ground sidetracked him.

In seconds, he was beside the weakened and bloody body of Red XIII. His wounds were graver and some cuts –curtsey of the hostile boy- had made him lose a vast amount of blood already.

Glad that he had decided to keep a healing material lodged onto the slot of his weapon, the gunslinger cast a cure spell. His hands glowed green as he placed them lightly on each of the major wounds the tiger's body sported, closing the gash and repairing the skin in the process. As he kept working on his friend, Vincent Valentine's head was filled with troubling thoughts while his heart drummed with frightful anticipation of what was definitely soon to come.

One question rang loud and clear. _What the hell is going on?_

**-o0o-**

**Yuffie Kisaragi's **hands balled into tight fists as she stepped into what was left of Seventh Heaven. She felt her gathering tears stinging her eyes as she contemplated the destruction and what it signified. Seventh Heaven was no more.

"You can't be here, ma'm. This is a WRO restricted zone," a soldier said as he made to grab her forearm. The ninja, however, moved out of his reach and threw down the beige, cat-shaped hood that composed the cloak she'd donned. Ironically, the cloak was a gift given to her by Tifa for her last birthday. The thought only made her heart ache again.

"Kisaragi, Yuffie," the eighteen year old female said –keeping her voice as composed as she could. When she successfully managed to push the lump out of her throat, her tearful eyes narrowed, "I am sure you have heard of me."

The guard's dark eyes widened for a second and he immediately saluted, "Ma'm. I apologize."

Yuffie shrugged and waved a lazy hand at the man, dismissing his exaggeratedly tensed reaction. She was not very much into the whole official salutes and etiquette. "Is that old man –ahem—I mean, is Reeve Tuesti here?" she asked when the man –albeit a little unsure- relaxed his pose and lowered the hand he'd placed on his forehead.

"Yes, ma'm. His temporal office is located on the second floor of that building," he pointed at a three story, old and shabby looking structure.

"Thanks," she said and seeing as the man was not yet leaving she added, "Err… dismissed?"

"Ma'm!" he clashed the heels of his boots, puffed his chest out and saluted briskly before returning to his post.

Yuffie sighed. She turned around intent on heading towards her newest destination –hoping Reeve could tell her something about what had happened- when something caught her attention.

"What the…," her eyes narrowed as she made out the distinct figure of Caith moving stealthily within the rubble as the sun began its decent –making puddles of shadows form here and there which were perfect for concealment. Her eyes became slits in suspicion as she proceeded in following the oblivious robot.

_What are you up to, Reeve? _She questioned as –noticing him stopping- she knelt beside a piece of wall that was still partially standing. Peeping out from her hiding spot, she switched her attention from the black cat to what lay ahead.

"…What?" she tilted her head when she noticed a young black-haired woman inspecting the rubble at her feet with avid interest. A red piece of cloth tied high around her right arm indicated she was part of the WRO.

She eyed the robot again and, quirking an eyebrow, she made her way towards him, careful not to make a sound. When she was looming just behind him, Yuffie did the only thing she felt was the right thing to do.

She wacked him on the head. Hard.

"Ooooww!" the irish-accented robot wailed in a hushed tone. The cat turned around intent on attacking whoever had dared touch him, when he noticed just who that 'annoying' person was. He groaned quite audibly.

"Yuffie, what was that for," his eyes narrowed, "Better yet, what the hell are you doing here?"

The ninja crossed her arms and glared. "You stalkin' that poor girl?" she said, forgetting –for the time being- why she was there in the first place. "You ought to be ashamed!"

The cat glared back. "I'm not stalking her! I am merely following her!" Caith defended.

"Is there even a difference between that!"

"I have a feeling that-" the offended robot began before being interrupted.

"You have something that belongs to us," a rich voice stated.

The robot and the ninja stopped their bickering and turned when they heard the sound of the new voice. Putting their heads out –each from one side of the rock that was hiding them- they noticed a tall, lean but muscled man walking towards the woman.

The female, likewise studying the stranger, was quick to regain her feet. The stranger was easily one-and-a-half heads taller than the WRO scientist, with a broad back and powerful arms to match. His flame red hair –wrapped in a high pony-tail—swayed like a cape as he closed the distance between them.

"Who's that?" Yuffie asked, noticing the odd eyes of the man. They were bright crimson with a gold ring around the pupil. What was most disturbing, though, was that they glowed with mako energy.

"I am not sure," Caith confided, his voice pensive. "But this can't be good. I think Rie is about to get in trouble."

The redheaded stopped a meter away from the unmoving female. His long, beige jerkin flew behind his legs as a gust of wind whipped them. Beneath the knee-length, buttoned-up jerkin, he was wearing a brown, high collar shirt and white pants. His brown boots reached a little above his mid-calves.

"Hand it over," he brought up his left hand, palm outstretched while his right one settled on the hilt of the sheathed sword by his side.

Rie tilted her head to the side, shrugged and then threw something at the man.

"What did she give him?" Yuffie asked, unsure if that was a good thing or not.

"That better not have been evidence," Caith growled after recovering from the shock the action produced.

Golden-red mako eyes narrowed dangerously as he inspected the thing he'd caught in mid-air. He closed his hand tightly, crushing the item carelessly. When he opened it, he allowed the wind to carry away the dust.

"A rock?" the man asked tightly, inspecting the female before him with something between interest, anger and amusement. He pushed his bangs out of his eyes, making some of them settle on the side of his face, framing it.

The scientist frowned and promptly explained, "Your petition was quite vague."

Despite his previous anger, the male grinned while giving a step forward. Amiably, he elaborated on his petition, "Then let me make it clearer. I want Uriel's hair and you better not have tampered with its cells."

Rie gave a step away and her hand immediately shot towards the weapon strapped to her lower back. The male, noticing this, was in turn quick to unsheathe his katana gracefully.

"Oh, GROSS-NESS! Hair? He wants friggin' hair! Who the hell is this guy?" Yuffie scoffed, turning to Caith questioningly.

"I don't know but we need to help her. Come on!" With that the cat began to move towards the two oblivious figures ahead.

The male lunged towards Rie, who had by now, her kodachi in hand. Steel clashed against steel before Yuffie –using her shriuken- slashed the man shallowly on the shoulder. The unexpected attack made the redheaded moved backward a few steps.

"Reinforcements?" the male murmured, sweeping them with an uninterested glance. His lips parted in an amused smile, "Oh, my bad. It's just a damn brat and a shabby cat."

Yuffie gasped. "Who are you calling a brat, old man! I am the champion of the earth and the sky. I am the conqueror of evil. The single white rose of Wutai (1)!" she introduced dramatically, readying her powerful weapon.

The man raised a single eyebrow, "Ah, I seemed to have been mistaken."

The ninja smiled smugly, "Damn right!"

"You are a damn 'annoying', insignificant little brat," the man corrected amused.

The teen growled but decided best to ignore the insult for the time being. She needed to keep her cool. Yes. That's what Vincent always told her, right?

"Oh GAWD! Whatever, loser!" she yelled before pointing a finger in his direction. "Just who the hell are you!" the ninja demanded, preparing to throw her weapon again –her anger still evident.

The redheaded smiled, "None of your business… ugly 'brat'."

"THAT'S IT! Your going down, pal!" The ninja yelled positively fuming. Apparently Vincent's words had just flown out the proverbial window of her mind.

Narrowing her eyes, she threw her weapon with all her might. The male, however, caught it effortlessly and –much to her surprise- threw it back with matching skill. The ninja, the robot and the scientist hauled themselves out of the way before the sharp blades could slash at them. The hostile male cracked his neck and was about to attack them when a battle-roar, followed by the sound of a machine gun, made him step back before his body could be pierced by the raging bullets.

"Yo' better think 'bout that again, reddy!" Barret rumbled as he made his way towards them, gun pointed at the –now grave- redheaded.

"How troublesome," the male said with distaste before taking out a small evidence bag out of the pocket of his pants. He held it up between two fingers in a mocking way.

"The evidence!" Rie gasped, patting her jacket's pockets and realizing the obvious.

"Thank you for your cooperation, love," he said, looking at Rie with a smug smile, "I'll be going now. But I am sure we'll see each other again… sooner rather than later."

With that a crimson wing –with two smaller black wings beneath it- came out his back. The feathery limb wrapped around him and, in a blink, he was gone.

"The fuck was that! Now we've got damn bird-men attackin'?" Barret cursed marching –quite angrily- towards Caith. "Reeve! Yo' better start explainin', ex-spy!"

"Yeah, Reeve!" Yuffie agreed, standing beside the huge man with hands on her hips, "And where's Tifa!"

Rie chose that moment to walk towards the tensed figure of Caith. She knelt before the cat and stared at him blankly for a long while before speaking."Reeve, I've lost the evidence."

"I saw that, Rie."

Rie nodded curtly –making it seem like she was glad that was out of the way- and said nothing more.

"The hell's this?" Barret asked Yuffie in a tone that tried to be hushed but failed, making Rie turned to him inquiringly.

The ninja shrugged unsure. Indeed, just who was this 'strange' girl? Better yet, if she was part of the WRO, then why was Reeve following her?

"I dunno, but Reeve was stalking her," she whispered back.

Unfortunately, the growl coming out of Caith proved that her tone was not as low as she had intended. "Yuffie…," the mechanical voice warned.

Rie, for her part, just looked at them all at a complete loss.

**To be Continued… **

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**Story's notes:**

**(1)**_This is a direct quote from Dirge of Cerberus. Yuffie used it after saving Vincent. _

**-o0o-**

**AN: **Please do not forget to **review**, it means a lot. Also, for those wanting _Cloud_ to appear, I think he will be reappearing next chapter.


	11. Abstract Concepts

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any of its characters. I am just burrowing them for a while.

**Author's notes: **Well, I will like to apologize for the lack of action in this chapter. This was centered more around the characters' development. Next chapter, however, I promise there will be lost of actions and surprises. _Cloud's appearance had to be moved to next chapter _because this one ended up longer than I had originally intended.

Quick thanks to my logged-on readers: **Tigerfur, Kairi-loves-Sushi, Kerttu, KCVII, Ghedea, Selendrii, Lewnuhhkau **and** Kragoth.**

Quick thanks and replies to my anonymous readers: **CNome **_(I am glad you like Tifa's line of thought in regards to Seph. I also agree, Vin shouldn't be stuck in the damn coffin. He is greater than that!), _**Shanrock **_(lol, indeed. How is Cloud going to react I wonder. You'll just have to wait to find out. Glad you are enjoying this so much)._

**DRfoSwlT **_(lol, I know. Cloud is such a jerk! I will try to make him win back some affection –I hope, lol. I am also thrilled to know you like my OCs so far. Indeed, there are a lot of 'evil' characters because there are also a lot of 'good' characters, lol. There needs to be some balance, don't you think?), _**pearlwhite **_(I am very happy to know you like how I am handling Sephiroth and his 'gentler' side. I am trying to make it believable and I am thrilled to know I am succeeding. I think you'll like this chapter, then) _and **an-oh-nymus **_(I am glad to know you like the story so far!)._

**Enjoy** and don't forget to **review**!

**Edited: **31th of August 2010. Thanks to Shanrock and for pointing out my mistakes.

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"_Love isn't a decision. It's a feeling. If we could decide who we love, it would be much simpler, but much less magical."_

_-Trey Parker & Matt Stone-_

"**One Winged Angels"**

By: FenixPhoenix

**Chapter 11: "Abstract Concepts"**

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**Sephiroth Crescent **sat in his favorite piece of furniture, his comfy lazy-boy. It stood just to the right of the long sofa that had become his bed ever since he brought Tifa to his apartment. Crossing his arms, the General pondered about what happened earlier that day.

After the martial artist had seen Reeve Tuesti n the news, she had asked why they couldn't leave the apartment to reunite with her –obviously distressed- friends. The reasons Sephiroth gave her were quite simple but no less truthful. The martial artist was pretty much a moving target and, as such, they needed to be extremely careful when traveling around, even if they were to merely take a stroll down the street.

Furthermore, since he had the vague impression that the two clowns who attacked them were not alone in their 'reunion' quest, they had to double their guard so as to avoid being caught by the enemy. Though reluctant to admit it, the ex-SOLDIER was not sure if he could truly take three of those men at the same time, when two had –to his great annoyance- forced him retreat in the first place.

Pointedly hinting at the idea that if they were to go to Reeve -without first finding out where their enemies were hiding in Edge- it could lead to her friend getting hurt, Tifa had relent in her efforts with a profound sigh.

Sephiroth Crescent cracked his neck absently, trying to undo the knots of stress that had accumulated there with little success.

Though it was still early, a short while ago Tifa had excused herself and swiftly gone to bed. Sephiroth, however, was glad for it. It was not that he disliked the barmaid's company, far from it in fact. He really enjoyed their conversations or even just sitting together in companionable silence. Much to his amusement rather than aggravation, though, he soon learned that the martial artist evidently preferred any kind of conversation -even idle chit-chat- over silence, regardless of how peaceful the latter was.

Though in the past he would have probably ignored her –forcing silence upon them- that was not the case anymore, least of all with her. The strangest thing was that he didn't even mind the huge change his personality had undergone.

As he reflected upon this, his luminescent gaze moved to the door that led to his former room, now 'officially' hers.

He felt, again, relief washing over him at the thought that she was safely in bed. The sentiment, of course, was mainly prompted by what he was about to attempt. The silver-haired male had decided to begin his 'search' for Jenova's pets by using his own alien cells as a tracking system. Because he needed to fully concentrate on the task, he had hoped to be alone when he did it –during his first try if nothing else.

Considering that Tifa was rather uncomfortable with silence -by what he had gathered so far- he was positive she would doubtlessly prove to be a distraction if she were to be with him. One that, much to his chagrin, he would not be able to ignore –not that he would put that much effort into accomplishing it to begin with.

This last was also another change his personality had undergone in regards to Minerva's chosen. And, like with everything that concerned her, he did not try to fight or correct that alteration of his behavior.

The ex-SOLDIER shook his head, clearing it from his wayward thoughts. Once it was completely blank, he closed his eyes. As soon as he did that, he heard Minerva's warning rise and echo inside his head.

"_Jenova will no longer aid you. Though you have the power again, it will be much more difficult to use and much more tiring."_

The Goddess words were a stern reminder that the tool he was about to use was sharp bladed on both side, and that, as such, it could be just as helpful as it could be hurtful.

"One who is willing to risk nothing can achieve nothing," he mumbled with a smirk, recalling it was his master –Masamune- who had fist told him that. Up until now, the short piece of wisdom had proven its truthfulness again and again. He held the lucid believe that it was not going to start failing him now.

So, yes. He would risk it.

Having steeled his decision, the General tilted his head back until it was resting on the cushions of his reading chair. He breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly in an effort to calm his jittering nerves.

Uncrossing his arms, he placed them on the armrests of the chair. Only when the tension in his muscles desisted and his body began to relax, did he allowed his mind to reach for the power of the Jenova cells he had genetically inherited from his mother –as opposed to being injected like Cloud and the black-caped experiments had been.

When the power he was looking for was shaken from its previous dormant sate, he found it was a bit more difficult to control than he had anticipated. After around five minutes, to his extreme satisfaction, he finally managed to mold it to his will.

Pleased that this was not the first time he would be using this ability –though, to be honest, he had Jenova's constant whispered instructions when he'd used it in the past—he began to lower the defenses of his mind. One by one, the walls he'd constructed so thoroughly went unenthusiastically down.

It was an inevitable step. It was perhaps this part of the process that concerned him the most. The fact that while he tried to encroach upon the minds of Jenova's oblivious minions, he was required to leave his mind open and completely vulnerable did not settle well with him.

It couldn't be helped, though. So he did it, careful to keep his awareness in close check in case someone tried to access his mind. If they did, he would make sure they feel his unrestrained wrath crashing upon them.

Thoughts of how Jenova had taken control of his mind deemed it worthy to come into the forefront of his mind in that particular moment, mocking him as they danced before his closed eyelids. With a grunt, he shoved them away, locking them in the place where all his darkest memories were being stored –wishing to be ignored, but never to be forgotten.

Slightly hesitant now, he still spread his senses, stretching them outward like a ripple in a pond. Before long, he started to feel the small, non-intriguing presences that composed the majority of the population. Their battle-aura was not high enough to be felt solidly. It was, instead, nothing more than a brush on his subconscious, perceptible only because he was paying minute attention.

With the utmost caution, he kept moving. He allowed his presence to sweep more ground, wearily keeping his power adequately hidden so as to not attract the attention of someone keener on what was happening around him –in the almost spiritual plane in which he moved.

The powerful General must have opened himself to a seven-mile radius before he finally sensed a spike in power -or more acutely, a presence hosting fairly active Jenova cells. He frowned upon realizing that this presence did not match neither of the two warriors he had engage in Seventh Heaven.

_So there are more soldiers at Jenova's disposal after all,_ he thought grimly, far from thrilled by the idea. _How very troublesome._

Risking the possibility that he might be perceived, the ex-SOLDIER unleashed more power into the tracking wave. As soon as it reached the point where he sensed the Jenova-infused warrior, he noticed three other people with higher than average battle-auras near his target. In fact, those other signatures were familiar enough for him to realize that, at least two of them, belonged to former members of AVALANCHE.

The battle auras of them all suddenly peaked and he guessed the change must have occurred the second they engaged in combat.

Putting that piece of knowledge aside for now, he focused entirely on his target. The Jenova cells inside this stranger were stronger and far more numerous than those belonging to either Sephiel or Uriel.

Sephiroth sighed deeply. So far he had just been scratching at the surface of this unknown person. However, he needed more information and the opportunity to satisfy his curiosity was too tempting to ignore. Hence, preparing himself mentally to plunge deeper into the man's mind, he whispered a silent countdown.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

And suddenly, the presence he'd felt so solidly before was gone, having vanished from the area his subconscious was enveloping.

Opening his eyes and feeling his muscles being weighted down by extreme exhaustion, he cursed. He'd been so close and, for a split second, he wondered if perhaps Jenova's minion had sensed him too. Suppose he retreated when he realized what Sephiroth was about to do?

Then again, it could have been a mere coincidence. After all, he had been fighting Ex-Avalanchers and, as experience had kindly taught the General, those fighters were not to be taken lightly.

Content with his explanation for the time being, the silver-haired male decided that he would simply try his luck in tracking his enemies on the morrow. Right now, he was hardly able to keep himself alert, much less try to glide spiritually through the fragile realm whence he'd come.

With skill acquired by experience, the ex-SOLDIER built his protective mind-walls again. When he was certain that his defenses were just as impenetrable as they were before, he moved towards the soft sofa that was, by now, beckoning him over.

Lying down on the malleable cushions of his makeshift bed, he draped the blanket he had left on the coffee table over his body and rapidly succumbed into a dreamless and peaceful slumber.

**-o0o-**

**Reeve Tuesti **stood, cross-armed and slightly scowling, before the shorter figure of a rather nervous Rie. Barret and Yuffie were flanking them, looking from one to the other with nagging interest and persistent confusion.

"Rie," the black-haired male's baritone came low, a fool-proof indication that he was not pleased.

"Reeve," the scientist responded unsure. He could tell she was really trying to figure out why he was regarding her so coldly. Too bad she was failing terribly at the task.

Still, not really wishing to wait until she realized what she'd done wrong -Odin knew he would have to wait quite an eternity for that miracle to occur—he decided to not beat around the bush any longer.

"Why did you take the evidence –our most important piece of evidence, might I add- out of the lab?" he asked, his dark eyes scrutinizing her intently.

Swiftly discarding the patch that had been hiding her scarred, silver eye, the scientist focused her mismatched gaze solely on him. "I felt the 'urge' to bring it with me when I left," she deadpanned, making evident emphasis on the word 'urge'.

Reeve was downright confused. Knowing she was still lousy at reading emotions, he thought it best to reveal his feelings with a single worded question."What?"

She frowned at him, "Could you be more specific in-"

He knew he should have seen this coming. So, mentally rolling his eyes, he interrupted her speech. "Why did you feel the 'urge' to do it?" he enquired, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to control his building agitation. The fact that they had been mocked by their attacker just added a token to his foul mood.

"I…I don't know," the woman answered frankly, her brows furrowing even more as she thought about it.

Reeve sighed and fought the headache that was surely coming. It was taking all his self control to restrain himself from screaming at her. _Calm down, Reeve,_ he said to himself as he closed his eyes and concentrated on evening out his breathing. _She is but a child in a woman's body. You know that._

When he opened his eyes, feeling somewhat less angry, he found her staring back at him completely puzzled. Against his will, his frustration came back.

"Okay, Rie. If that is the case, then why did you follow it? Why did you give in to such a reckless urge?" His tone was harsher than he had intended and he knew it. However, he was positively taken a back. Rie had never been an impulsive person. She had always made it a point to back her every action with hard-core logic before.

So then… why this sudden change in attitude? It was completely –dare he say it- out of character! Not to mention that this only added wood to the fire of suspicion he was vainly trying to put off.

With something between weariness and interest, Reeve noted the muscles of Rie's back and shoulders tensing visibly. The hands that had been hanging limply by her sides, were now clenching and unclenching as she tried to control the rush of whatever emotions were coursing through her body.

This had never happened before either and, though he was careful not to show it, the WRO's leader felt a tingle of excitement fluttering in the pit of his stomach. This was a clear step forward in the area he had been working on with Rie. The fact that she was able, for the very first time, to display any kind of emotion this strongly was a progress in his book –never mind that the feeling in question was bewilderment bordering with heated anger.

"Why, you ask!" Her tone was strained and her eyes flashed with crashing emotions –confusion, anger, betrayal and, ultimately, hurt. Her body became even stiffer when she tried to cope with the situation that was clearly out of her league. "I did it because you 'told' me to, Reeve!"

The scientist was suffering; he didn't have to look at her to know that. Emotions were hard for her to understand and even harder to effectively handle. Upon hearing the answer she gave filled with such raw sentiments, Reeve felt both surprised and, yes, a little bit of guilty.

The head of the WRO had always been careful with her, treating her like a small child in this department to avoid hurting her unnecessarily. Nevertheless, his anger had gotten the best out of him today and, for that, he was truly sorry.

Sighing deeply, Reeve pushed aside his remorse for the time being. Though part of him was still trying to decide whether to be happy or not that she had displayed emotions so intensely when she had utterly failed to do so in the past, the other part was busy mulling over her cryptic answer. She said that she'd done if for him, because he had told her to follow her urges. So then, why couldn't he remember that?

"What do you mean I told you so?" he voiced after a pregnant pause; his tone careful and almost soothing, "I don't recall telling you to take the evidence with you, Rie."

The WRO scientist shook her head, her uncertainty more evident now. Thankfully, though, anger and hurt were no longer dwelling in her eyes. The blankness was simply broken by the glint of puzzlement and curiosity, the only emotions she had proven she was comfortable with.

"No, you are right. You didn't tell me to take the evidence with me. However, you told me a week ago that I should follow my 'urges'. You said that to me after we went to investigate the attack on the new settlement near Nibelheim, remember?" she explained, her tone was matter-of-factly even when her eyes revealed her increasing doubts.

Reeve's dark eyebrows arched upwards. Then, before he could ask something else, he recalled the occasion she was referring to and, unable to keep it in, he groaned. Leave it to Rie to read more into a message than she should. The woman had taken his words –which had only applied to 'that' situation- as a rule to be followed regardless of the event!

Yes. He remembered that time all too well. It was barely two weeks ago when it happened.

_*Reeve stood before the destruction left behind by rampaging monsters. The settlement had been small, a clutter of merely twenty houses to be exact. They had come with the mission to help them construct a wall to protect the area –knowing that the families had taken a fancy to a place that was infested with feral monsters, humongous Dragons amongst them._

_By the time they got there, what little the civilians had constructed was debris lilting the floor. What had made his heart twist, however, was the realization that alongside broken wood, there were also lifeless bodies. _

_The people who'd made it, though some of them were badly hurt, looked at him with a pain that surpassed that of outer injuries. They were broken by the loss of someone close to them –be that a friend or a family member. _

_Bottling his emotions, he gave quick orders to his soldiers before moving to the place where Rie was standing, completely engrossed by something he could not identify from where he was. When he reached her side, the glass bottling his feelings broke, and his eyes filled with undisclosed pain at the image that met him. _

_A girl –no older than five- was sitting on the ground, cradling the head of her dead mother as she tried to shake her awake, not realizing that the slumber in which the older female had fallen could not be broken. _

_Reeve turned to Rie, studying her frowning profile for a second before moving towards the small child. He took a knee before the blond girl and whispered soothing lies, telling her that her mom had gone to a peaceful place where she would wait for her daughter to follow her much, 'much' later. _

_The girl's sobs became louder as she allowed Reeve to pull her away from her mother's corps and into the warmth of his comforting embrace. Fragile arms clasped around his neck and the former ShinRa spy fought to maintain his composure. _

_Rie just watch him with unhidden interest as he sat on the ground, away from the sight of the dead woman and rocked the child to and fro. Radiating insecurity, the scientist approached him, chewing at the inside of her mouth in the nervous gesture he was familiar with. _

_He tilted his head to the side, signaling that she should take a seat beside him. She did so swiftly, looking from him to the girl and back again with unhidden interest. A curious interest that, it was plain to him, kept flirting with the thin line that kept it from becoming morbid fascination. _

"_She has fallen asleep," she informed after a while, her own arms hugging her calves to her body, as if to wrap herself in a protective cocoon of her own. Her interest had vanished to give way to almost shy uncertainty._

_Reeve nodded, eyeing her intently for a while before asking, "What's on your mind, Rie?" _

_The woman turned to him visibly surprised. She was most probably wondering how he'd figure out she wanted to ask something. He had studied her for so long, though, that he'd learned to read some of her body language like an open book. Even when most of the book's content was still a mystery to him. _

"_I… I felt a strange 'urge' to hug the girl like you did, Reeve," she confided, placing her chin on her knees and hugging her legs to her body tighter. "At first, I was going to inform her that her mother was not sleeping but dead. But when I gave a step towards her… I couldn't move. I was not sure if telling her the truth was such a good idea anymore. Then, as I kept watching her I was compelled to…to…"_

"_To comfort her?" he ventured, when he saw her struggling to find words to express her thoughts –her unfamiliar feelings. She nodded and Reeve couldn't help but smile gently at her. _

"_You should follow those urges next time, Rie," he advised. "They are nothing to be embarrassed about. It is those kinds of instinctive actions what makes us human, after all." _

_Rie turned to him and smiled back –albeit awkwardly, as if she was still deciding whether to smile or just continue to look on blankly. _

"_I will remember that, Reeve," she decided, reaching out to tuck the lock of blond hair -that had fallen across the face of the small girl- behind her ear. Gentleness glinted in her eyes before it transformed into excruciating pain. But before he could try to decipher her look, she had her blank mask back on –a front she'd probably acquired as a consequence of whatever ShinRa had done to her.* _

Reeve sighed in defeat, his anger completely dissipated by the memory.

"GAWD, you two!" Yuffie seemed to have had enough of this. "Someone better start explaining. The rose of Wutai –yours truly- is beginning to get PRETTY irritated."

Rie turned to her, face void of emotions. For a long while the scientist just stared at the ninja, as if trying to figure something out by merely gazing.

"Wh-what?" Yuffie snapped, becoming gradually more uncomfortable as the silence stretched and a blush tainted her tanned cheeks.

"You can't be a rose," the scientist pointed out curtly.

The ninja's eyes widened in shock at the unexpected comment before her indignity flared causing her to hiss, "WHAT! Why the hell not, scarred pirate!"

The older female seemed positively confused by her words. Though if it was by what Yuffie replied or her given nickname, Reeve was not sure. Still, he saw Rie turning to spare a glance his way and he tried to stop himself from smiling when he realized what her look meant. She was silently asking if there was something wrong with Yuffie's head, a question he had asked himself a thousand times over the past few years.

When she refocus her attention on Yuffie, the former spy's eyes widened once he registered who the two females _where_. Odin helped them, whatever was going to happen was definitely not good. In fact, he was feeling something strikingly similar to what he felt when meteor was forcing an impending doom on the planet.

"Well, you can't be a 'rose' unless you are one of the many 'plants' of the genus Rosa." A pause followed by an innocently stated question, "Are you really a phnogamous plant? Because I was under the impression that you were human since you clearly possess the ability to move around on your own. I am also guessing that— Is something wrong with your eye?"

Yuffie's right eye was twitching sporadically and, just as she was about to snap at the oblivious woman, bouts of boisterous laugher came tumbling out from Barret, swiftly distracting them all.

Placing his humongous hand atop Rie's head, the dark-skinned warrior declared in his loud baritone, "I'm startin' t'like this one, Reeve."

Rie turned to him and, before the former spy could stop her, she said what he'd feared she would. "ARE YOU BY ANY CHANCE DEAF?" she yelled at him, just in case the man did have a hearing problem.

"Wha'?" Barret seemed to be rethinking whether he liked her or not. His eyes narrowed but he waited for her to elaborate on her odd comment. "Whatcha mean?"

"I only asked because people who have severe hearing impairments are prone to be loud and since-" before Rie could dig further into her own grave, Reeve stepped towards her and placed a hand firmly on her mouth, muffling her words.

"Reeve…," the human machine-gun seethed, his rumbling tone voicing the underlying warning while, behind him, Yuffie kept giggling uncontrollably. The former ShinRa operative flinched at the dangerous aura enveloping the bigger male. How was it that this woman had managed to land 'him' into so much trouble today?

"Let me get you all updated in what we know about the Seventh Heaven's attack, shall I?" Reeve offered, sidestepping the present issue professionally. In a matter of seconds, he was relaying all kinds of information. To his relief, he noticed as his two former companions forgot their anger towards him and a certain someone he had yet to release from his hold.

Years of experience in dealing with these two had thankfully taught him how to handle them best. Rie, on the other hand and as expected, just blinked in confusion at him but made no effort in shrugging Reeve's arm from around her shoulders or slap his hand away from her mouth…and he was thankful for that.

**-o0o-**

**Tifa Lockhart **waited for the water to boil as she leaned back on the counter. It had been a week since Sephiroth had told her of the role Minerva had entrusted her with. During all that time, she hadn't been given permission to leave the apartment even once.

Strangely, though, she was not as miserable as she knew she should be. Sephiroth was surprisingly great company –more so than Cloud and Barret ever were. If she wished to talk about something –no matter how banal it was- the General would stop doing whatever he was doing to give her his complete and undivided attention.

That polite action alone had made her nervous the first couple of times. To feel his intense gaze upon her would render her speechless for a good moment before she was able to regain her bearings. That, however, was slowly changing as they got used to each other's company.

Perhaps fearing that she might get bored, Sephiroth had lent her some of the books he owned for her to read. The downside to that was that Tifa Lockhart was a terrible reader. It was not that she despised the hobby so much as the fact that she just didn't have it in her to concentrate on the small letters for large periods of time.

Sure, she could start reading just fine but –before she knew it- her mind would, slowly but surely, start to wander in another direction. In the end, she would be forced to reread the same page two times before realizing what it said.

The General was extremely perceptive, either that or he had heard her muttered curses, because he had immediately realized her problem and commented upon it. Blushing, Tifa was left with no other alternative than to confess. So, she'd told him that during the past her father had been the one to read for her. She had gotten so used to that, that it became the only way she was able to concentrate on a written story.

Further shocking her, the ex-SOLDIER had offer to read for her and, despite knowing he had way better things to do, she had still accepted the offer –not hiding the excitement the idea produced.

The sound of the pot wheezing broke her train of thought. Turning off the flame, she took two ceramic cups and filled them with the tea she had just prepared. The smell of lemongrass made her smile as it invaded the air around her.

This was 'his' favorite, she'd learned.

Smiling, her mind began to walk back down memory lane. The General had been true to his word. Sephiroth would sit in his armchair and wait for her to settle down on the sofa –same one he use for a bed- before beginning to read.

Tifa had come to eagerly wait for those precious times. It became, by far, her preferred hobby.

The General was not someone who spoke without a purpose. His messages were always concise and straightforward, not wasting words to adorn whatever he was saying and instead choosing a direct route to get his point across.

But the brunette loved to hear his baritone. His deep voice sounded exquisite to her ear, like a banquette fit for a king. The fact that when he read for her, she was bestowed the honor to hear him speak endlessly, made her smile with overwhelming pleasure.

They had even come to a point where she was no longer required to ask him to read for her –a thing that had always made her blush madly. Instead, she had but to place a glass of water in the table beside his armchair for him to understand the silent request.

To her delight, he always complied with a lopsided smile.

So far, he had read for her a total of three books. The stories were so good that she had often gone to bed thinking about them. It was also, because of this, that she had been forced to reflect upon her past relationship with Cloud –or rather, the lack thereof.

Upon pondering about it for days, she had come to the startling realization that, though she 'loved' her childhood friend, she had never been 'in love' with him.

She sighed as she strolled towards the TV room. Silently, she placed the cup of tea beside the General, who had been looking through the newspapers in search for possible information about their pursuers. She noticed his confusion when he realized she'd served tea instead of water, but he said nothing as he took a sip of it.

Today, she did not wish for him to read for her. Instead, as she plopped herself on the sofa, she felt the odd 'need' to hear his opinion on the matter she had recently discovered.

Hence, as she tried to find a way to breach the subject, she began to unconsciously chew on her lower lip, and fidget with the cushion she'd placed automatically on her lap.

"I'm listening," Sephiroth said after a short pause. Tifa was glad he had taken the initiative, even if he had done it in his signature way of getting right down to the point.

She bit one last time on her –slightly swollen- lower lip before finding the courage to start the conversation that, she was positive, was going to leave her blushing.

"I have been thinking lately about Cloud," she said, hugging the cushion Sephiroth used as a pillow to her chest.

Interestedly, she noticed as he professionally composed his features into a stoic mask. She had been wondering how he would react to hearing the name of the only man who had ever managed to beat him –not counting Jenova, of course.

"Oh, what about him?" he asked blankly but not coldly, as he brought the cup to his lips and give it a sip.

Tifa bit down on the corner of her mouth one more time before meeting his bright gaze.

"I have just come to the realization that I 'love' him," she informed and frowned when she saw his shoulders tensing subtly but surely. Suddenly feeling the urgent 'need' to clarify her statement, she quickly added, "But I have never been 'in love' with him, you know?"

This time it was Sephiroth's turn to frown as he began to reflect on her words, "What made you reach that conclusion?"

"It doesn't feel like what most people describe as being in love," she answered, feeling a wave of warmth rushing to her cheeks.

"Love or 'being in love' is an abstract concept," Sephiroth countered. "What love is and, consequently, how it is described, indisputably differs from person to person, author to author."

"I know but… I… I've no idea how to explain. I just simply 'know'," the martial artist assured, tucking her legs below her body and tapping her fingers nervously on the rim of her cup.

The great General –being the logic-based person that he was- was quick to use just that to reply.

Cocking an eyebrow and draping his voice with unmistakable interest, he asked, "Have you ever been in love then?"

Though caught off guard and not really understanding what he was getting at, she still replied with a negative move of her head.

"Then, how can you be so certain when you have nothing to compare it to?" he enquired, his tone curious more than smug.

"I just know…," the female insisted, though much less confident than before. She heaved a sigh. _Leave it to this man to confuse me! _

"But… how?" his voice again, the curiousness still present.

Odin, the man was relentless!

Blurting the first thing that came to mind, she offered, "I just didn't feel it… When we kissed, for one, I never felt the passion that I know I should. The passion I know I am capable of feeling and giving… There was just… nothing there," she paused when an image of a smiling Aerith flashed inside her mind. With a small smile she mumbled mostly to herself, "at least, not for me."

There was a short moment of silence after that.

Tifa turned to study his reaction. His brow was slightly furrowed as he considered what she'd just said. When he felt her eyes upon him, he focused his attention back to her and nodded once in acceptance. The fact that he said nothing else, however, caught her interest.

Curiosity gripped her mind and sowed the seed of a cunning plan to get some 'very personal' information out of him through the excuse of their present conversation.

"Based on 'your' experience," she began, maintaining her voice as casual as possible, "do you agree with me?"

She tried not to squirm under his gaze but she was sure the treacherous blush on her face was blowing up her careless facade. Now that she had asked, the idea of prying into Sephiroth's love life didn't seem like such a good idea any more.

Oh well, there was no going back at this point in time.

The General smirked, gave a half-shrug and responded in all honesty with a surprising, "I don't know. I've never kissed anyone and I've never been in love."

Her eyes widened and her jaw slackened in astonishment. Surely, she hadn't heard correctly, right? There was just no possible way Sephiroth had said that!

He chuckled, successfully reading her reaction, "Is it really so hard to believe?"

She forced her jaw to close before stating the obvious, "You're Sephiroth!"

He quirked a perfect eyebrow and she could see he really didn't understand what that had to do with kissing.

"I am," he agreed with a neutral tone, and she felt as though she'd just been thrown into the twilight zone.

And, of course, being as flabbergasted as she was, she spoke the first thing that came to mind without really thinking it through.

"So you've never had sex?"

If she was blushing before, she was tomato red now. She was so mortified, that leaving the apartment in hopes that Jenova's puppets would break the awkwardness, seemed like the best idea she'd ever had.

To her relief, Sephiroth was not fazed in the slightest. If anything he was amused, if his lopsided smirk and glinting eyes were any indication.

"I thought we were talking about kissing and love in general," he pointed out, his darn eyes never leaving her.

_Great Tifa! You just managed to make an idiot out of yourself! _She chided, fighting the urge to press her heated face into the cushion she was tightly clutching. A nice and frigid shower made it way to her 'to do list' right below the 'dig a hole and hide' idea.

"I… just… ah…"

_Damn it! _It was too hard to get something coherent out of the useless mass of grey matter inside her cranium. _Wake up, you defective, double-crossing brain!_

He chuckled again and she had half-a-mind to glare at him for not making her feel any less upset. He must have sensed her building distress because he regained his composure, though the amusement was still there –mocking her.

"I was sexually active when in SOLDIER, yes," he informed unabashedly. "However, first class SOLDIERs were not given the opportunity to establish relationships. Sex was, basically, provided as a way to take care of the natural needs of the body as oppose to using it to emotionally link us to someone else."

The fact that he wasn't making a great deal out of this conversation, somewhat helped her to get over her embarrassment enough, so as to allow her brain to function again.

"But… you've still never kissed anyone?" she asked again, just to make sure. Plus, she was eager to move back to the safe subject that had started all of this mess, as oppose to discussing something as thwarting as 'sex' with none other than Sephiroth himself.

The General shook his head, "Kissing does not fall into the category of 'natural needs' within SOLDIER's rules. Therefore, it was never required."

"And you were never curious?" _Come on! Everyone has to feel curious about it at least once in their life!_

He seemed to think about it for a while before confiding, "The thought never occurred to me. I guess SOLDIER kept me occupied enough."

Tifa began to chew idly on her lower lip. Truth was, she felt bad for him. She hadn't realized it until now how emotionally isolated SOLDIER had forced him to remain.

Up until now, she'd conjured a fantasy-based image of him and his past –fully knowing that 'some' of those things could be wrong. However, the gap between fantasy and reality was broader than she'd anticipated.

_How could he have miss so much!_ She thought with something closely resembling bitterness. And just then, her impulsive side decided that she ought to do something about it instead of just feeling bad for him.

Thus, knowing she needed to do this quickly before she lost her wits, she stood up and approached him at leisure. When Sephiroth just quirked his inquisitive eyebrow, she felt the blush that had desisted, coming back full force.

_For Siren's sake! That quirking of his eyebrow and that lopsided smirk should be illegal! _

Though she was feeling more self-conscious by the minute, she didn't let that deter her from her firm objective. When she was standing just before him, she leaned slightly forward until their faces were leveled and only a few inches apart. To her relief, he didn't push her back. Had he done that, her resolve would have surely perished.

"What are you planning, Tifa?" he asked, his baritone lower, draping his beautiful voice with powerful sensuality. Surely, that tone should also be illegal!

She gulped, trying to come up with a plausible excuse to get away with what she was planning on doing –which was nothing short of 'stealing' his first kiss.

_Well he did destroy my bar, some punishment is in order, _she determined, trying to brush aside the guilty feeling produced by the idea that she 'might' be taking advantage of the General. The thought of it being true just made the task all the more challenging and… tempting, of course.

She allowed a small smile to grace her lips at that last consideration.

"I want to prove my point by experimenting," she explained in a whisper, her lids falling halfway on their own accord. "A-are you willing to participate, Sephiroth Crescent?"

When she saw how his lips quirked in a seductive smile, she thought she would lose it right then and there. She hadn't even kissed him yet, and already she was feeling lightheaded and her knees felt weaker than they should.

How was it fair that he was the one sitting safely down, while she could make a joke out of herself if her fragile knees were to buckle under her weight! And the planet's supreme Goddess was supposed to be on 'her' side?

"I suppose," he responded amiably, his eyes moving to her slightly parted lips for a second before focusing back on her wine orbs. Was she imagining it, or did he seem almost as eager as she felt?

Nodding hazily in acceptance, she began to close the gap little by little. The idea that she could 'scare' the grand first class SOLDIER was close to laughable, however she figured that one couldn't be too careful.

After all, she herself had almost smashed Reno's face when he had first kissed her, hadn't she? Thankfully, she had managed to stop her impulsive reflex before shamefully destroying the experience of her very first kiss and providing the Turk with some very delectable blackmail.

Tifa Lockhart gave a gasp of positive surprise when the General, apparently tired of waiting, met her halfway. Pressing her lips to his, she felt a very cocky smile tug at her mouth at the thought that she was the first to taste his extremely soft lips.

This was a deed worth boasting about shamelessly, wasn't it? And really, who could blame her if she did?

Sephiroth's muscled body tensed when she placed her hands on either side of his face, holding him in place when she increased the pressure of the chaste kiss. Slowly, though, his muscles began to relax and, when she was sure the initial shock had passed, she parted her lips and began to nibble his lower lip, ravishing it gently with her teeth.

God the man not only tasted exquisite but he smelled excellent as well. The scent of him was purely Sephiroth. It was a hint of steel and a wash of sandalwood mixed with his preferred aftershave creating an aroma that screamed elegance and sensuality to her sharpening senses.

Moving on overdrive, she boldly slid her tongue through the rift between his lips twice before he understood her silent plea and allowed her entrance. She deepened the kiss, tilting her head to have better access to his mouth as she explored it thoroughly –as though searching for his very essence with her almost languid touch.

The fact that he was relinquishing his cherished control so thoroughly only pushed her to perform in the most audacious of ways. She traced his hard jaw with her thumbs before moving down to touch his neck and finger tantalizingly the length of his protruding clavicle.

Unable to think straight anymore, she lowered herself on his lap, straddling him as she tried to press her heated body to the hard planes of his chest as much as possible. The passion that her unconscious action ignited was maddening as her fingers moved up from their exploration to comb through silky locks of silver.

An almost guttural growl from the man before her acknowledge his approval of her action, and that just added fuel to the fire that threatened to consumed her from the inside out.

Loving the feel but knowing it had to come to an end and soon –before she lost her sense of self in his- she retrieved her tongue when she parted for air. Difficult as it was, she really, 'really' wanted to continue but knew better than to give her animalistic cravings free rein.

They had barely been apart for a second, however, before he pushed her back to him by applying force to the nape of her head. Just when his hands had moved to embrace her? She had no idea –not that she minded to begin with.

This time she crumbled boneless against him when she felt 'his' tongue caressing her lips before moving into her mouth, exploring her with the same minute attention she had given him. She felt it slide against her teeth before it swept the surface of her own tongue, dancing with it to the enticing tune of their drumming heartbeats.

Shiva, it was true. The man was a swift learner in more than just one area. Apparently, fighting, reading and cooking where not the only things in which he could prove his superb skills.

She idly felt one of his hands roving her back, moving up and down while making undistinguishable patterns with attentive fingers, leaving a tingling trail of fire behind. His other hand was fingering her hair before settling again at the base of her head, and moving it around to have better access to her mouth.

Before she could stop it, a low moan escaped her at his careful ministrations. Though trapped by his mouth, it was still audible and she promptly felt a rumble of pleasure rolling inside his chest in answer.

This time, when they parted for breath, she managed to clear the inebriation of both her body and brain enough so as to allow some clarity. She pushed herself up and off of him, his arms –which had ended up clasping her by the waist- resisting to let her go for only a second before he released her completely.

Perhaps it had taken him longer to regain his bearing, quelling his savage desires to be replaced by the cold reason of civility?

She smiled at that before moving back on unsteady feet, wanting to escape the confounding emotions that had suddenly invaded her, laying siege to the reasons her brain tried to conjure about why this whole thing was simply 'wrong'. Surely this relationship was impossible… wasn't it?

It was certainly one thing to be friends but being lovers… _Holy, this is so confusing! Why am I feeling like this?_

The martial artist turned around and silently strolled towards the closed door that led to her room, the perfect asylum of peace and solitude to settle her battling emotions. A slightly trembling hand reached for the doorknob. She was about to twist it open, when she heard him speak.

"Tifa… how did it felt for you?" trying to fix her face to hide her dazzled glee, she glanced at him enquiringly. The ex-SOLDIER, his face revealing nothing but curiosity, elaborated, "Did this 'experiment' of yours offer a positive conclusion?"

At least he sounded as hoarse and out of breath as she felt, which refuted his facade at nonchalance. Biting at her lower, very swollen, cherry lip, she realized she was unsure as to how best to reply to the innocently phrased, but highly personal and revealing, question.

"How did 'you' feel?" she countered carefully –hopefully.

The enigmatic male rested his jaw on the knuckles of his right hand, leaning on his propped elbow as he regarded her with a slightly tilted head. She felt herself blushing again and just when she thought she could take it no longer, he finally responded.

"I do not have anything to compare it to." His voice was smoother now, and after a slight pause he added, "However, I found the interaction –the 'kiss' to be an extremely… 'pleasant' experience."

Though her blush deepened even more, she beamed at him and his rewarding answer. She hesitated for a short moment before deciding to grace him with a likewise frank confession of her own.

"The feeling is mutual," she admitted cleverly, before opening the door and stepping into her room. Before closing the door, however, she heard him again.

"Goodnight, Tifa Lockhart," his voice draped with amusement and something else she could not quite identify but which she, strangely, didn't quite mind.

Her smile widened when she replied, "G'night, Sephiroth Crescent."

With that she closed the door and leaned her back on the cool wood. Sliding down the length of it, she brushed her lips with two fingers –relishing in the memory of his touch.

_Holy, he was definitely way better than Cloud or even the seasoned Reno… _she grinned goofily as she picked herself up and decided a relaxing bath was in order. _Of course, what else could I expect from Sephiroth Crescent if not quality in 'whatever' enterprise he chose to undertake._

Yes. The man was skillful, alright. Idly, she wondered if there was perhaps something else she could teach him.

**To be Continued… **

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****AN: **Please take some time to **review**. Feedback helps an author know that her work is being appreciated. ~Cheers!


	12. Gaia’s Soldiers

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any of its characters. I am just burrowing them for a while.

**Author's notes: **Well thank you guys are awesome! I am having so much fun writing this story! I am thrilled to know that people are liking my more humanized and rather mortal Sephiroth. I was nervous when I first started this because people tend to read and write about a more God-like, cruel and dark Seph, so thanks for giving him a chance with this story. I am rambling so, on with the chapter!

**Quick thanks to log-on readers: **tigerfur, Ghedea, ValarSpawn, CNome, Kerttu, KCVII, HazzaTL3, , Selendrii, Kick-It-Aus Style-Mal's, expressz641 and Runamaria Haaku.

**Quick replies to anonymous readers:** an-oh-nymus _(thank you very much! I am happy to know I managed to get those reactions out of you!)_, Galiriol _(Thanks! I am happy to know you enjoyed the kiss, lol)_, Shanrock _(It means a lot to know you like this story so much. I also thank you for pointing out my mistakes, it helps me get better)_, ? _(Thanks! Glad you love it :p),_Caz _(I am happy to have you back. Thank you very much for the condolences. I am just happy my grandma is in a better place, you know? Anyways, I am thrilled to know you love this story!) _andSephiroth_Owa13 _(Glad to read from you here also, Sefira! Thank you for the amazing review and the lovely compliment. Your review made me smile, so thanks for that. I just love Seph before Jenova controlled him, so why not bring him back, right?). _

**Enjoy** and don't forget to **review**!

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"_You must welcome change as a rule but not as your ruler."_

_-Tony Dorsett-_

"**One Winged Angels"**

By: FenixPhoenix

**Chapter 12: "Gaia's Soldiers"**

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**Sephiroth Crescent** could scarcely believe what happened. Sitting quietly in the chair, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back, heaving a sigh that sounded oddly melancholic. Two naked fingers moved to brush his swollen lips and, against his rational wishes, his mind proceeded to recreate the feel of her soft mouth working against his, her tongue lashing out to taste him in a way no one had ever dared to do so before. It was a simple kiss, but it was still his very first kiss.

He chuckled softly at the inanity of the mere thought. How childish that a warrior of his caliber was unable to stop thinking about it, how very strange that his mind deemed it necessary to show him the image of her body pressed against his whenever he dared blink.

The General cracked his knuckles, feeling between uncertainty and resignation flooding him. No matter how much he tried to pry his working mind away from the event, he just couldn't. And, as if to mock his poor attempts at ignoring how much that simple action –perhaps banal for her- had changed him, the smell of her seemed to have established a permanent camp on his nostrils. The aroma was enticing, at least. It was jasmine and something else -something fresh that was purely and distinguishably her.

Needless to say, he wasn't lying when he told her he had enjoyed the experience. Likewise, he would be fooling himself if he were to consciously believe he didn't wish to relive the incident again –the sooner the better, in fact.

"Damn it, Tifa," he muttered, surprised that instead of annoyance, his tone had voiced sweet and utter submission. But was it really all that strange? After all, he was a tactician, wasn't he? So wasn't it the cleverest decision to yield in a fight he simply could not win? However… was this latter acknowledgment a good thing or a bad one?

Doubtful as he was, Sephiroth could not readily tag this as something negative when the innocent kiss had made him feel so… so very much alive! The oblivious barmaid had, somehow, reanimated him from the dullness that had always been his steadfast companion, breaking his conviction in the fact that life was a constant battle with little gain other than personal reputation.

Regardless of being unable to explain all the constant incoherencies his mind kept bringing up, Sephiroth was pretty sure he wasn't a complete 'ignorant' on the matter at hand. In fact, the great General had read plenty about kissing before. After all, in every story he had ever read, the characters seemed to always perform the 'ritual' at some point in time. If he thought about it, a vast part of the plot revolved around bringing the characters to that climatic moment where soul met soul on lovers' lips, just past the point where words exchanged became peculiarly superfluous.

Yet, to be perfectly honest, Sephiroth had never truly comprehend the act or, at any rate, its deep and dangerous repercussions. Though he had an accurate idea of 'how' it worked -and even understood that its main purpose was to put feelings into actions rather than words—the swordsman had always been quick to disregard it as nonessential. From his point of view, the act of kissing had never been more than a description to him, an abstract concept that, though intriguing, was insubstantial to the story's plot and, therefore, to life itself.

Now, however, what was once unwavering certainty was shrouded with unyielding doubts. Having experienced the same thing he'd often thought so useless, he realized how powerful a tool it truly was. In a cynical sense, it could even be used as a rather deadly weapon, psychologically speaking that is.

Sure, a kiss could neither kill nor maim, but it could surprisingly easy and very 'efficiently' disarm a man or woman. After all, the fiery barmaid -who was kind enough to trigger said experience- had left him unable to think past her… her soft lips, her sweet scent and her curvaceous body…

The ex-SOLDIER groaned and shook his head, trying to clear it from the images that were getting out of control and threatening to leave him even more shaken than he already felt. For Odin's sake, the woman had already besieged most of his waking thoughts before this! So now, what was he supposed to do? How could he possibly rid himself from her constant presence inside his very mind? In all probability, the attractive female was sure to plague him ruthlessly every second of every day! Worst thing was, he wasn't nearly as displeased as he should be!

The ex-SOLDIER's entire body tensed when his reluctant mind registered that last thought. Indeed, the woman had, in a matter of minutes, damned and cracked the powerful mind Hojo had tried –and for a time succeeded- to protect through isolation. The same mind that –save for Jenova's encroachment- had worked for him and him alone, but which, after this, was sure to work solely for her.

_Tifa Lockhart, have you any idea what you've done? _Sephiroth scoffed inwardly, undecided whether to be annoyed, scared or curious about this highly unexpected but most inevitable alteration. Hell, had he been less disciplined, his restraint would have certainly cracked the moment she had, undauntedly, settled on his lap, straddling his hips without an ounce of mortification.

And though he'd succeeding in keeping his primal part at bay, he'd frankly had a very rough time doing it. The beautiful minx had pushed him to the edge of his self-restraint, which was why he'd lost control of his actions and had let his hands wander their merry way to her back and neck and hair. It was amazing that his treacherous digits had not imparted their generous ministrations on other parts of her body as well.

Thankfully, she'd put out the fire before it could have consumed him in its blaze. For it was only when she stopped and made to leave his lap, that he realized he'd been holding her just as fiercely as she'd been holding him. And, though he knew he had to let her go in order to reclaim his own sanity, he'd hesitated. Sure, it was only a handful of seconds, but it was hesitation no less. Something that had never happened before…

The silver haired male's silent musings, ultimately, offered a conclusion that he found shockingly terrifying but also positively alluring. Her touch, so warm and well-intended, had stirred a side of him he'd never even knew he had. It was a side that was raw, protective and possessive.

Sephiroth Crescent, first class SOLDIER, at an age well beyond his teens, had been hastily introduced to his most primitive desires, his most savage needs.

Yet, it struck him as odd. More so, considering it should have already been awake since he had been sexually active for quite a while now. And sexual intercourse was the core of savage needs, the essence of human interactions and overall goal of evolution, wasn't it? So then, why was it until now that this… thirst -this _craving_ for her nagged him so?

_Does it even matter?_ A voice inside him enquired and, strangely enough, the swordsman realized that it didn't. What had been awoken so vigorously could not be put to sleep as easily, it was as simple as that. For it had been this newfound need, what had made him tighten his hold on the object of his desires before civility forced him to let her go, hadn't it?

By the time Sephiroth Crescent downed the last of his -now cold- tea, his irrational mind had somehow convinced him that this change was not quite as unwelcomed as he had initially believed. Thus -as if that new part of him was happy with that silent declaration- the former SOLDIER managed to stir his mind into more important –even if less pleasant- matters. He needed to check the perimeter to make sure there were no Jenova warriors nearby. If there were, then he would take advantage of that and gather as much information about them as he could 'without' getting caught.

That established, he partook in his personal ritual of evening out his breath to relax his body and clear his head. When his muscles loosen up as much as they could, he closed his eyes and grudgingly lowered the walls that protected his mind.

Fighting the anxiety that threatened to rattle him at his sudden sense of vulnerability, he proceeded in extending his senses, blanketing the area through the usage of the Jenova cells his body had altered at birth.

Slowly, he expanded his tracking wave, moving it past where he knew Tifa's bar used to stand. After forty minutes or so, his energy began to waver as exhaustion kicked in. Sephiroth knew he had to retreat but, just as he was about to do that, he at last felt a Jenova-infused presence and, against his better judgment, he wearily approached the warrior.

With the utmost caution, he probed the mind softly, merely scratching at the surface of his awareness. Immediately, just as he weaved his way through the hostile presence, he felt familiarity settle in.

_So, we've met before,_ the General cooed, digging into the oblivious mind, hoping to find a clue as to the identity of the warrior. He knew he had to be either Sephiel or Uriel, since those two were the only pets of Jenova he'd met –not counting the one he'd killed, of course.

He stopped his physiological probing when a memory belonging to his victim flashed behind his closed lids with outstanding vividness. Hopefully, this would shed some light as to the identity of the presence. And so, keeping a passive stance, he let it play…

_*A naked, pale-skinned male woke to find himself floating inside a glass cage filled with liquid mako. Though caged inside liquid, he was able to breathe without having to wear a mask to pump oxygen into his lungs. It was one of the enigmas never explained about how mako worked in people who had been exposed to the energy for so long._

_In vain, the male tried to bring his hand up to touch the surface of the glass that separated him from the stern-looking scientists. One look at them caused his heart to clutch painfully and red spots to blotch his sight. He hated them. He hated the way they looked at him, as though he was nothing more than an animal, an interesting 'experiment' to prod and observe. _

_If his limbs felt not as heavy and uncooperative as they were, he would most probably shatter the glass boundary with a powerful thrust of his fist. Then, he would chase the white-coated 'doctors' and show them just who the weak one was. He would crack their necks like twigs. But before that, he would break every bone in their bodies and smile at the sound of their screams. And even if they were to beg for mercy, he would still make them suffer, just like they left him to suffer every day since he was brought here. _

_An eye for an eye… it was the only justice he could think of. And yet, getting out was a dream that could never be. He was trapped, bound by constant exhaustion and heavy doses of drugs. And those outside his cage knew it too and smiled with true evil whenever he tried to move._

_Oh, if only he could-_

_An almost hysterical wail of pain broke him out of his bout of self pity. He raised the eyes -which had trailed to the where the machines were beeping somewhere below him- just in time to witness a humongous figure walking through the door followed closely by a casual-looking redheaded swordsman. Both were dressed in the same colors –white, beige and brown- as though it was some sort of uniform, and the male found himself idly wondering who they worked for._

_The first figure, face collected, raised his axe and brought it down with mighty strength upon the scientists that tried to escape. The redheaded, an amused expression on his face, did nothing but wait for his companion to clear the room. _

_So they were not working for ShinRa?_

_The killing spree continued on the other side of the glass. In a matter of minutes, the once white floor was covered with pools of crimson. The trapped male's lips quirked upward at the corners in a bittersweet smile. Though he would have loved to be the one to draw their blood, he was at least thankful that these strangers had –perhaps unknowingly- avenged him. _

"_Is that all of them?" the huge man asked the leaner one, sheathing his deadly axe after wiping the blood off its silvery blade. _

_The redheaded shrugged nonchalantly, "The pitiful four-eyes are no concern of mine." _

_The other nodded solemnly and stood guard at the door while the leaner one came forward. When he was just in front of the trapped male, he flashed a smug smile._

"_Don't worry," he said while unsheathing his sword for the first time. "We've come to bring you home." _

_He brought his long katana up above his head before slashing through the glass in a crescent moon arc. The glass shattered and the liquid mako rushed out in a mocking imitation of a waterfall. But the entrapped male's body was too weak to hold his weight and he felt himself falling forward, as quickly and wildly as the water had. _

_He closed his eyes, preparing for the resulting impact against the cold and merciless ground. Yet, strong arms steadied him before he was even near the stained, glass carpeted floor. _

"_Behold your freedom, Sephiel," the owner of the arms called, his tone rumbling with kindness he had long since forgotten existed._

_The weary male tilted his head to get a good look at his helper. It was the silver haired, bull of a man, the one who was holding him with more gentleness than his complexion gave him credit for._

"…_Sephiel?" he croaked, his throat dry and patchy for lack of use. _

_The man nodded, his eyes softening a bit, "Yes. That is your name, brother."_

"_W-who… are you?" he asked them, stiffening for a second when he felt the redheaded throwing a cloak around his shoulders to cover his nakedness. They were helping him? _

"_I am Uriel," the silver-haired said before signaling his companion with a sharp thrust of his head, "and that's Castiel."_

"_Phft, save the chitchat for later," the redheaded scoffed, sauntering towards the exit. "I want to get out of here since I, at least, have much better things to do."_

"_Ignore, Castiel," Uriel advised, twisting and tossing him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "He's just as happy to have found you alive as I am."_

"_Where are you… taking me?" he asked, unsure of whether he could trust these men. _

_Uriel's arm braced the back of his knees as he began to follow Castiel. And just when he thought he would not get that question answered, the man spoke. _

"_Home."* _

The image dispersed after that and Sephiroth found himself smirking.

_Sephiel… so you're still around, huh? _He enquired silently while preparing to search for more relevant information. He was about to dive into the man's most recent recollections when the unthinkable happened.

A bad-timed knock at his door made his precarious concentration slip. The harsh sound had interrupted his actions so abruptly, that he had unconsciously pressed his presence into Sephiel's with far too much force. Consequently, the man sensed his violation and, as expected, the Jenova warrior retaliated, pushing him back as he tried to gain information out of his tracking wave in turn.

Sudden pain shook him. Hot, fast and intense, it flared from the wound behind his right shoulder with outstanding force. It was the very same cut that, despite constantly tending to it, had been unable to fully heal, resting open but without bleeding.

Latching unto rationality while ignoring the pain as best he could, Sephiroth made a quick retreat, reconstructing his mind walls with lethal efficiency to stop Sephiel from following further. Once he was back from his failed stroll through the realm of spirituality -for lack of a better name- he was quick to regain his feet.

"Just wonderful," he seethed sardonically, pushing the throbbing pain to the back of his head and moving towards the nearby closet. Donning and securing his leather trench coat –not shedding his wife beater beforehand- he promptly took his sword from where it had been leaning on the wall.

Damn it all, they had been found and all because of some stupid civilian! Sephiel was most probably on his way, bringing a good number of backup puppets now that he knew who he was dealing with. Hopefully, the unwelcomed cod would kill the idiot who had dared knock on his damn door.

With three wide strides he crossed the lounge and –urgency winning over politeness- loudly barged into Tifa's room. He needed to get her out of here as soon as possible! More so since his present exhaustion would make him too easy a prey for the skillful enemies coming their way.

Indeed. It could not be helped. They would have to retreat. Their best option was to leave the hot-zone that was Edge altogether. Thankfully, he had already made a contingency plan in case something like this where to happen. So, patting twice the pocket of his pants, he made sure he had his car keys with him.

Then, just as a scream outside his door marked the fact that his enemies had arrived, he pulled open the bathroom door briskly.

"Eek! Se-Sephiroth!" Tifa, who had been taking a bath at the time, was trying to cover herself. But the General was not paying attention to that, his entire focus was directed at those who were soon to come inside.

Absently grabbing the towel that was hanging in one of the racks, he tossed it her way and quickly turned towards the door, "We've been found."

"W-what!" he heard the sound of water splashing as she regained her feet.

He planted his sword between his feet and concentrated on calling forth the guardian of one of his summoning materia.

"**Hail King of Asgard, beacon of war**," he murmured feeling the spirit within the material he'd chosen stirring. Crimson light surrounded him as he concentrated on keeping the energy steady.

Just then the door was thrown open, but Sephiroth was ready for that. He waited for the smiling Sephiel to step inside before finishing his summon.

"**Come forth… Odin!**" he finished, unclasping his hands and retrieving Masamune.

Around them the apartment vanished to be replaced by an illusion of a forest of rocky canyons. The ceiling was now dark clouds twirling around a yellow full-moon, making blue shadows dance within the night itself.

Upon one of the canyons the loud neigh of a horse was heard. Sephiel, curious, turned in time to see an, armed and imposing, figure perched upon a six-legged stallion cantering his way. A long sword was held steady on Odin's side as the warrior moved towards his silver-haired target.

"Tifa!" Sephiroth, pain still throbbing uncomfortably, twirled around to find her pale-faced and dressed in a flimsy towel while hugging her clothes to her.

With one stride, the ex-SOLDIER was upon her. He grasped her upper, left arm and pulled her towards him just as the sound of steel against steel resonated around them. Once secure in his arms, he used what little energy he had to call forth his black wing. It sprung out of his back with effort and the General quickly folded it around them both. Then, with a grunt, he teleported five blocks down his apartment, where he'd left his car.

Once safely and solidly on the ground, Sephiroth opened the passenger door of his black Viper and gently pushed Tifa inside. Next, he quickly got into position behind the stirring wheel, twisted the ignition and pushed the gas. In seconds, they were soaring through the darken streets, getting as far and fast away from danger as possible.

And as they left the slumbering city of Edge, Sephiroth wondered how long he would be able to keep awake. Already his eyes were dropping and his limbs were becoming incredibly heavy. It was with sheer 'luck' that they had even made it out, and he knew it.

**-o0o-**

**Genesis ****Rhapsodos **whistled softly as he pulled his red Mercedes to an abrupt stop just in the outskirts of his destination.

Since flying now took a handsome toll on his energies, the elegant male had decided best to travel by land rather than air. Idly, he had mused if this change had something to do with his visit to the lifestream or his long mako slumber. Putting that oddity aside for future reference, he decided to concentrate on the current matter at hand. Blue eyes took in the scene before him with unmistakable interest.

Here stood the city of Midgar… completely destroyed.

"It seems I miss out on quite a party," he mused grimly, accelerating and continuing his path undeterred. If he was lucky, perhaps he would still be able to find something useful within the vestiges of the old ShinRa building.

Thus, the poet drove through the rubble silently, noticing that some people still lived in partly destroyed houses. How queer that they had not taken residence elsewhere, in a place devoid of constant reminders of, what was surely, a tragedy.

With a mental shrug, he continued on his way.

The redheaded eventually parked in front of the half-destroyed building that he had once-upon-a-time regarded as his home. Climbing off the car he'd 'borrowed' from some kind-hearted civilian, he proceeded to rush up the stairs. When he stepped inside through the broken entrance, he noticed -with a bit of interest- that the splintered doors still hung on their hinges.

When his eyes adjusted to the dimness inside, mako eyes scanned the terrain gingerly. There were two places where he could most probably find the information he was looking for. One was the president's office and the other the basement. Since he could tell from outside that the entire pent-office was wiped out of existence, he proceeded to the basement by taking the stairs to the right of the entrance.

Cupping his gloved hand, he called forward fire from one of the materias he'd absorbed into his body. A ball of fire sprung from thin air, floating centimeters atop the leather surface of his palm. Illumination taken care of, he began his long decent down the serpentine stairs.

When at last he touched upon the flat surface of the basement archives, he marveled at the fact that –despite the destruction that had greeted him- this floor was mostly untouched. Had it not been for the layer of dust and spider webs, as well as the moistness in the air, he would have alleged nothing had changed.

"Well, pup," he mumbled as he began his search, scanning the boxes filling the tall shelves while moving down the first aisle, "if you are still alive, I should be able find something about your whereabouts here."

Noticing the boxes were tagged and shoved in alphabetical order, he strolled towards the right shelf of the second passage. He brushed the tip of his fingers to the tags staring back at him under a layer of dust, as he paced down the length of the steely shelf. The sections waited lifelessly for him to notice them as he pass them by… 'D'…'E'… 'F'! He stopped, heart drumming faster as his objective drew near.

"Fabel, Boyle…no… Ah, there you are. Fair, Zack," Genesis smiled as he pulled the box out with a soft grunt -which was quite a deed given that he was only using one hand.

Cheerfully padding towards a table at the far end of the room, he threw the box unceremoniously upon the hard surface. The wooden piece of moist furniture creaked in protest but, thankfully, it remained on its unsteady feet.

"Well, ShinRa's quality products have certainly deteriorated since last I visited," the redheaded pointed out to no one in particular with a chuckle. Unsheathing his sword, he slashed the top of the steel box open with ease.

Peeping inside eagerly, he soon felt his brows meeting in an uncertain frown at the oddity of finding only a single folder inside. Surely, ShinRa must have had more information on Angel's puppy, right? After all, the boy had been soaring up the ladder of SOLDIER's ranks last he'd checked. Heck, the boy had even defeated him, for crying out loud!

Still frowning, he took the folder and flipped it open. He brought the fiery ball he was still holding near the papers in order to provide enough light to read the small letters. Blue eyes widened with unbelief when he realized that, instead of a report, a single picture greeted him with gore-filled detail.

The picture depicted a bloody and grim-covered Zack, blue mako eyes gazing at the sky with the glassiness of spiritual freedom. This was all the evidence he needed to understand what had happened. There was no need for him to read the report filled with lies and excuses. ShinRa had done its job, they had silenced and destroyed what they could not control –the fact that it was one of their own SOLDIERs meant nothing to them.

"Damn it…," he croaked, closing his eyes and feeling anger and pain surging through him. He could almost swear he heard his own hopes shimmering inside his heart.

Like Angeal Hewley, Zack Fair was dead.

What was he supposed to do now? Minerva had ordered him to help a former companion, but he didn't have that many and now two of them were dead! Of course, that only left—but could it be? Could the smug Sephiroth Crescent be the one he was asked to assist?

"HA! You're tainted, dude!" a boisterous, feminine voice interrupted.

Reflexes kicking in, his muscles tensed in preparation for whatever was to happen. It was absurd how stupidly he had lowered his guard. His pride demanded that he rectified the situation immediately. To have someone of his caliber so shamelessly caught was beyond scornful.

Hence, feigning boredom, the poet spun around to gaze at the short –albeit quite muscled—figure of a woman. White, curly hair reached down her shoulder blades while hazel eyes stared back at him unblinkingly.

As he locked gazes with her, he noted mako energy swirling inside her orbs, making her eyes lit up as if a light had been flickered from within. The non-voluptuous woman gave a couple of steps forward, allowing his fire ball to bath her in its warm radiance. The skin stretching above tight muscles -from her naked arms, legs and face- was shaded with a golden hue that categorized her as a possible native from Costa del Sol or its surrounding areas.

He gave her a quick once over, trying to measure how big a threat she was. The short woman was clad in a brown top that exposed her toned abdomen, white shorts reaching down her mid-thighs and a short-sleeve –unbuttoned- beige shirt. As far as he could see, she wore no insignia that would indicate she was working for ShinRa, though the mako in her eyes begged to differ.

Movement in the corner of his eye made him spare a glance at her hand. Sometime during his inspection, the female had taken out a wicked nine-tail whip, the pointy tips of steel promising a painful caress if he was not quick on his feet.

"So… tainted, you said?" Genesis enquired politely, putting the folder down and placing a hand atop the hilt of his sword. Just who the hell was this girl and what did she meant by tainted?

The female laughed kind of stupidly. One of her little fists came to rest on her hip, while the other one moved to exhibit the skill with which she handled her dark, brown weapon.

"Since you are no longer useful," the tomboy began, pointing a finger at him for emphasis while smiling broadly, "I, Ariel the magnificent, challenge you to a duel!"

Unsure of whether to take the woman seriously or not, Genesis smiled charmingly and decided to blatantly try his hand at lying. "Ah, lady," he cooed, unable to keep his building amusement out of his tone, "Though direly tempted, I cannot engage a woman in battle! It is unbefitting!"

"WHAT!" her hazel eyes flared with disdain and her jaw clenched with unrestrained fury. Genesis realized just then that perhaps lying was not as astute as he'd thought.

A twist of her arm, and the whip was lashing at him. The poet somersaulted out of the way just a second before the arrow-headed tips broke the creaking table he'd been using.

"That definitely looks like it would hurt," he mumbled, knowing that to treat this opponent as a joke would be a dire mistake now that he'd seen her prowess.

He'd always recognized that looks could be deceiving, but this was quite ridiculous. Who would have thought that such power could reside in such a short female? More importantly, where the hell did she kept all that strength in her -what 5'1?— diminutive body!

"You! Tainted coward!" she yelled loudly while lunging herself at the redheaded. "I'll show you females can be just as ruthless in battle as men! Prepare to die under my superb skill!"

Genesis clenched his jaw and sidestepped as the nine tails went sweeping by, brushing against him as he moved nimbly out of their path. Backing away from the short demoness, he raised his weapon and, with two fingers, trailed the length of it while calling forth the materia's magic into the core of his silver blade. The blade hissed and glowed before flames erupted from within, dancing beguilingly upon the edge of it.

"Enough of this," he said, positioning his sword before him in a ready-stance. "If you insist on this dance, then I shall grant it!"

The poet smirked at the woman as he prepared to switch from the defensive to the offensive. He closed his previously cupped hand, smothering the flame and blanketing them in moist darkness.

Whoever this strange woman was, she was definitely grating his already jittery nerves. The game was over. After a curt 'en grade!' the former first-class SOLDIER launched his attack.

**-o0o-**

**Tifa Lockhart** glanced at her companion with worry evident in her eyes. She could see his eyelids drooping against his orders, and it was by sheer will alone that he was still able to drive. His tiredness rolled down the length of his muscles in waves she could actually feel within the bones of her own body.

"Sephiroth?" she called softly, not wishing to startle him given his not-very-alert condition.

The male gave her a sidelong glance before focusing back on the road. "Tifa…," he began in a voice so soft, that she unconsciously leaned towards him in order to hear him better. A short pause ensured before he heaved a sigh and simply said, "I apologize for the interruption of your bath."

She felt a rush of heat creeping to her face, rendering her slightly light headed. From all the possible things he could say, the barmaid had to admit that that was the most unexpected. Of course, that only reminded her of the precariousness of her current situation.

The martial artists swiftly folded her arms across her chest, making sure –for the twelfth time- that her towel was secured around her by pressing the knot below her right armpit with her bicep. It was just her luck to have their enemies attacking while she soaked her body in a warm bath! Thankfully, Sephiroth had been too occupied at the time to actually see her naked body… right? And why the hell was she disappointed about that!

Stupid, useless brain of hers! Now was not even the time to be thinking about such petty things like 'oh, I wonder if he finds me attractive'! For crying out loud, they barely made it out alive and the poor General was so tired he was short from passing out cold.

"Are you injured?" he asked, taking off one of his gloves with his teeth and promptly reaching to touch her forehead. Maybe he forgot her explanation of 'embarrassing' equals 'blush'?

Tifa bit back a groan when she felt his cool skin upon her brow, prompting her internal heat to intensify while causing a tingling sensation to spread throughout her limbs. Just how was it that the man managed to perform every action so seductively even when barely conscious? Naturally, her own mind was not helping, given that right now it was showcasing various images of him using his teeth to take off other garments –none of which were his.

"…a fever… medicines… apartment… listening?" a voice continued its speech. Was the man saying something?

_Darn, I think he is. Better listen to him._

"…Tifa?"

"Huh?" she finally snapped out of her fantastic daydream. When she turned to him, it was to find that they had actually stopped and he was staring at her with profound worry on his eyes. His hands were touching her shoulders lightly and everything pointed to the possibility that he may have been shaking her.

He retrieved his limbs and exposed his relief by way of a sigh. "I asked if you were injured," he repeated, eyeing her curiously –despite his alluded tiredness.

_Damn it! Thanks, brain! Way to go! _

"Lockhart…?" Poor man, he seemed at a loss as to how to get her to pay attention. Wait! Wasn't he the one supposed to be unable to pay attention? Not only was he 'tired' but she was practically _naked_ in his car!

"Tifa?" his voice again. How insistent…

"I-I am fine," she stuttered, smiling in reassurance and cursing her aggravating blush for not helping in alleviating the awkwardness of the situation. The fact that she was wearing nothing but a very short towel wasn't helping either.

"Are you sure?" he asked, but already he was back on the road, speeding down the solitary street, "You look a bit flushed."

Could the man really be this oblivious? It was his fault that she was blushing!

"Well… I am wearing 'only' a towel," she pointed out before she could stop herself. _Way to go, Teef! _

To her surprise –and in a perverse way, her satisfaction- she saw an almost imperceptible blush tainting his cheeks. The fact that she could detect it even with the lack of light made her rethink if it was really _that_ imperceptible.

_So… he hadn't even realized that, huh? _She thought smugly, relishing in the fact that he was not as immune as she had given him credit for. He may be one of the best SOLDIERs to walk upon the face of Gaia, but he was a man nonetheless.

After a silent while, he pulled over again and slowly turned to her –flush entirely forgotten. His eyes were bloodshot and he seemed to be losing the silent battle he'd been waging ever since their escape.

"Our current destination is Junon," he began explaining solemnly. "If we continue driving south on this road we should be able to eventually arrive at an inn. We can spend the night there before continuing."

Tifa nodded in approval. She was more than happy to relinquish the leadership to a man who had certainly way more experience than her. It was a good feeling too -if she was perfectly honest- to have someone take care of 'her' for a change.

"Tifa."

"Hm?" she turned to him, worry again clutching at her. "What's wrong?"

"Can you drive?" he asked, shaking his head as though to clear the haze that was threatening to lull him into slumber.

"O-of course!" she responded.

"Good," he turned and opened his door. Tifa was quick to do the same.

Noticing he was having a hard time balancing his own weight, she went to him and took his arm. He seemed to hesitate only for a second before giving in. Draping his muscled limb over her shoulders and placing her left arm around his waist –with her hand just above his hip- she allowed him to lean against her shorter frame some of his weight. Perhaps it was due to his tiredness, or maybe it was the fact that he was comfortable with her, whatever the case, she felt his entire body relaxing against hers.

And she liked that. Enormously.

"What happened? ...I mean, why are you so tired, Seph?" she asked, while guiding him slowly around the car, else the man should slip to the ground.

"It tires me to use the powers of my Jenova cells," he explained, stifling a yawn. "I… apologize for the inconvenience."

She shook her head. Leave it to him to apologize for something like that.

Just then his body threatened to sag out of her hold and she was quick to pull him towards her, taking more of his weight. However, the abrupt movement caused the fragile knot on the towel to loosen. Tifa yelped when she realized what would happen next, especially because she seemed unwilling to let go of the General in order to stop the cloth's imminent fall.

Decision whether to let her body be exposed or let his body kiss the ground made, she closed her eyes and braced herself for the embarrassment that was surely to come. In a second, though, she idly felt his arm pulling her even closer to him, making her mold her body to his powerful flank. Afterwards, to her slight confusion –but positive relief- she realized that her flesh had not yet been kissed by the crisp wind as she knew it should have been.

Slowly opening her eyes, she realized that Sephiroth had caught the towel -with the hand of the arm he'd draped over her shoulders—right before it moved down the lump of her breasts, and he was, chivalrous, holding it together.

"T-thanks!" she said, releasing the hand that was holding his wrist in order to grab the damn towel.

When he didn't answer, Tifa spared a hesitant glance his way. The foremost thing she noticed was that his luminescent eyes were glinting with amusement and something more… was it… _lust_!

She felt her blush getting the best out of her again, and something blazed just below her lower abdomen as she locked gazes with him. His eyes were so intense that she thought she would lose herself –quite willingly- inside the liquid lifestream of his soul.

Then, he closed his eyes for a second and looked away, apparently fighting –with way more discipline- to regain his composure. Then again, he was tired…

The core-shaken barmaid was suddenly dragged out of her musings when the silver haired male resumed walking, his wish to complete their task evident by his –now urgent- steps. Hurriedly re-securing her towel, the brunette helped him lower himself into the passenger seat and -once he had every limb of that gorgeous body in- she closed the door. Cursing the fact that she was not dressed and that her brain was not helping her cause by pointing out how very handsome her companion was, she made her way to the other side of the car and ungracefully climbed in.

"Well then we're—," one look was all it took for her to lose her voice. Sephiroth Crescent was sleeping peacefully beside her, his head tilted towards her. The tender image of the great General's slumbering -and ravishingly vulnerable- body made her smile tenderly.

It took a lot of willpower for her to not reach over and caressed those cheeks that were just screaming to be touched… and kissed… and maybe also li-

_Argh… please stop,_ she wailed inwardly to that extremely naughty part of her that kept coming up with these brutally distracting thoughts. She turned to him again and bit her lower lip. Wishing to be completely sure that he was as gone as he looked, she reached over and brushed one of his bangs aside. The man stirred slightly but did not wake up.

She nodded absently with self-approval before leaning over to grab the clothes she had placed atop the board on the passenger's side. Retrieving the items, she glanced one last time at her companion, before –ignoring her persistent blush - she swiftly got dressed.

Clothes now a more welcome barrier against peeping eyes and crisp nature, she reached across Sephiroth's body and secured his seatbelt. She did the same for her before twisting the ignition and driving down the road. An hour or so later, a rather cozy-looking inn came into view. Pulling over, she parked in the last spot available.

"Seph," she called, nudging the man's shoulder lightly. His eyes opened slowly and her breath caught on her throat. He looked… gorgeous.

_Damn him, 'he' should be illegal! _

The man stared at her without a word and she realized she had yet to let him know why she had woken him.

Clearing her throat she excused, "We've arrived at the inn."

The tired male nodded and unfastened his seatbelt. By the time he was about to get out of the car, Tifa was already there to offer help. Like before, he didn't resist her and, once on his feet, he was quick to drape his arm around her neck.

Tifa knew that to anyone nearby, the action would most probably be regarded as a tender show of affection from her companion. The thought of it –though she knew it was not real- still made her smile.

Shortly after, they were standing before the Inn's register. A middle-aged man smiled at them from behind the counter. "Welcome to Traveler's Respite!" he greeted. "How many nights would you be staying with us?"

"Just one," the martial artist answered, smiling and hoping he would not recognize her _or_ the General.

"Alright," the man, smiling goofily, typed into his computer for a couple of minutes. "Aha! Two rooms, right, lass?"

To her annoyance, Tifa found herself being eyed quite 'hungrily' by the stranger. Perhaps the way Sephiroth had his arm around her did not look as 'loving' as she had thought? Before she could even answer, the ex-SOLDIER beat her to it.

"I am sure my 'wife' wouldn't mind one room," he said in a voice that, though polite, was still frigid enough to make the hotel's clerk cringe visually. The fact that he decided to place his long katana on the counter only served to emphasize the man's nervousness, of course.

Tifa felt her cheeks blushing when her mind registered three facts. One, he had called her his wife and -was it just her imagination or did his voice sounded awfully possessive? Two, his fingers were absently tracing the length of her collarbone by now. And three, she was staying in one room –with probably one bed- with 'the' Sephiroth Crescent!

"A-all done, sir," the man stammered, "That'll be 400 gil."

A laidback looking Sephiroth fetched his wallet and handed the man the money without batting an eye. Then, he retrieved his katana while Tifa took the key offered and let himself be led away.

"Well that was a bit harsh, wasn't it?" she asked as she fumbled with opening the door to their room while keeping the sagging Sephiroth steady.

"Hmph… It displeased me the way he was looking at you," he answered laconically, making Tifa's heart perform a somersault between her ribs. Either the man was sleepwalking already or he was surprisingly honest. Oddly enough, both made a lot of sense but she was hoping for the latter.

She opened the door, flicked on the lights, and guided her companion inside.

"Well, here we go," she said, pushing him lightly onto the bed. "I'm just going to take off your trench coat, okay?"

Hearing no protests, she began undoing the straps across his broad chest before slipping the garment off his arms. The man stayed, during the entire process, quite still but not uncooperative when needed.

A part of her wondered whether to take advantage and take off his white wife beater as well, but she quickly pushed the thought aside. He hadn't taken advantage of her so it was wrong for her to not want to give him the same curtsey!

As soon as she had his coat off, the male laid back, closed his eyes and in a second, was sleeping like a baby. She smiled and, carefully, tugged at his boots. That done, she proceeded in taking off her own vest (thankfully she had saved her regular attire during the attack) and shoes.

Then, she proceeded in placing all the items on a corner chair (the shoes on the floor), before ambling to the other side of the bed and climbing in beside the serene General.

The martial artist flicked off the lights and draped the blankets over the both of them. Content by how smoothly things had gone –not counting Sephiroth intimidating the poor clerk downstairs- she closed her eyes and allowed sleep to overtake her.

**-o0o-**

**Sephiroth Crescent's **eyes widened slightly when he found himself in a familiar place, standing close to an equally familiar, prostrated figure.

He stood in the realm of the Ancients. In a place called –quite fittingly- the Forgotten Capital. In the center of the ruined city, atop a pedestal bathed by a mystic light, knelt in prayer a pink-clad woman. Her eyes were closed and her even breathing showed the profundity of her meditation.

The General gulped, fully aware of what would happen next. Though he had not been there in flesh and bone, he had controlled the events in spirit. A figure disguised like him would soar down from above and, like an angel of death, he would plunge his sword through the woman's body with absolutely no remorse.

So he waited… and waited… and waited… and then, they were no longer in the ruined and abandoned city. Instead, they were now standing inches above the lifestream. Sephiroth frowned, wondering if Minerva would appear. As if having heed his call, the Goddess materialized from within the lifestream, standing some meters away from the brunette figure.

"Aerith Gainsborough," Gaia's supreme guardian called; her eyes a shade of ocean blue.

The mortal opened her green eyes and glanced up at the Goddess once, before bowing her head in respect, her body still kneeling. "Goddess… It is an honor."

"Child of the Cetra, you are needed once again," Minerva declared. "Will you accept the trials ahead?"

"Of course," Aerith replied swiftly, "I am at your disposal, Goddess."

Minerva nodded in approval, "So be it!"

With that the figure of Aerith was embraced by the hands of liquid lifestream, eventually disappearing from his dream.

"The planet's soldiers have been called," the Goddess said, her eyes glinting gold as she turned to gaze at him. "Sephiroth Crescent, son of Jenova and Gaia, one-winged angel, it is now up to you to gather them around the beacon of hope I have entrusted you with."

The former SOLDIER nodded solemnly, "And it shall be done."

Minerva smiled at him, "I will let you rest now, but know that I'll be watching."

With that, everything turned black and the General soon found himself deep within a dreamless sleep.

**To be continued… **

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**AN: **So…I guess you can probably tell I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, right? Lol. I know I was supposed to bring Cloud in this chapter, but it got too long and I decided to bring Genesis first instead. However, Cloud will be appearing next chapter, I promise. I suppose you already have an idea of 'how' he is going to appear, right?

Well then, please show your appreciation by way of a review! Comments, questions, advice, requests, constructive criticism and even typo corrections are welcomed. ~Cheers!


	13. Relationships

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any of its characters. I am just burrowing them for a while.

**Author's notes: **Yeah, so I finally got a beta-reader (**Res**) which will mean cleaner chapters! So you should all thank my beta if you find this chapter easier to read than the rest (not being distracted by grammar mistakes). If you do still see mistakes, they are entirely my own. ~Cheers!

**Quick thanks to log-on readers: **Tigerfur, expressz641, ValarSpawn, CNome, Selendrii, Eva Von Dee, Ghedea, Runamaria Haakuand KCVII.

**Quick replies to anonymous readers: **Pearlwhite _(thank you very much for your advice. I will try to keep it in mind! And vulnerable Seph… isn't that great? Lol),_ Galiriol _(Thanks!)_, Sephiroth_Owa13 _(Wow, so many questions. The mystery knocker, you are going to find out –though the idea of Reno being him was tempting, lol. About Teef meeting with everyone else… you'll just have to find out. Hope this chapter answers some of your questions!),_ DoomReeper _(Thanks for the compliment. I think you'll be happy to know I finally got a beta, so this chapter should not have as many mistakes –if any at all), _Q_ (Well, I answered you in your e-mail. Thanks for being my beta!),_ and Caz _(well, rather than making them get together until last chapter, I am progressively making them realize they like each other. That way, everyone's happy –after all, this is a TeefxSeph fic, right?). _

**Edited by:** Res.

**Enjoy** and don't forget to **review**!

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"_It is not living what's important, but living rightly."_

_-Socrates-_

"**One Winged Angels"**

By: FenixPhoenix

**Chapter 13: "Relationships"**

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**Genesis ****Rhapsodos **cursed when his foot got caught on a box that had been lying thoughtlessly on his darken path. Halfway down, the ex-SOLDIER had skillfully regained his balance. Unfortunately, his opponent was quicker –and all too happy- to take advantage of his temporary slip.

Hence, the short female was upon him in a blink, her nine tail whip lashing at him with deadly steel. In pure and raw reflex, the poet raised his arm, sword held horizontally near his face, in a last attempt to defend the most vulnerable part of his body.

Four tails hit his chest and bounced against his sword without doing much damage. However, the other five twirled three times around his forearm before the arrow-tips plunged viciously into layers of leather and skin.

The redheaded hissed more in irritation than in pain. Vainly, he tried to free his limb from the tight hold of the woman's whip, well aware that by hitching his sword arm, he was rendered extremely susceptible to an , the more he tried to pull his arm free, the more the cords tightened around his muscles, stopping his blood flow and threatening to numb the fingers gripping his rapier. Being detained was bad enough, but being disarmed was inadmissible!

"Ha! What do you think about that, huh? You still believe women are weak, tainted little shmog!" Ariel spat smugly, tugging at her weapon and smiling when another hiss escaped the male's lips.

He had to do something and fast. Already he could feel his digits weakening, his sword becoming heavier as it slowly slipped out of his slacking fingers. Fighting a wave of panic, he forced his brain to coolly conceive a way out of his precarious situation. All his years in SOLDIER had sharpened his mind, allowing it to work even under intense stress like the one he was in at the moment.

Suddenly, the metaphorical light bulb came to life inside his head. Of course, how dense of him to not think about that! The poet allowed himself a small smirk as he gazed at his captor unperturbed.

"Even if the morrow is barren of promises…" he began, letting go of his sword and catching it expertly with his left hand. His eyes flashed with the unvoiced promise of payback as he finished, "Nothing shall forestall my return."

"Huh?" Ariel's eyes widened when she realized the man was not as helpless as he'd seen moments before.

Without responding, the poet's sword swooshed upwards to the stretched tails of the whip. Though he wasn't ambidextrous, he was still able to hold his own with his other hand pretty adeptly. When the hybrid sword was but inches away from the leathery cords, flames erupted with renewed vigor out the core of the blade and onto its steely length.

A chain of curses rolled off the tongue of the short female when the blade cut through her weapon as if it were made of flimsy rope. That done, the enraged poet –ignoring the fact that the tails' tips were still incrusted into his arm—launched a quick follow-up attack, his sword slashing horizontally. The woman barely managed to avoid being beheaded by back flipping out of the way, flames painting the path of the sword with lines of light amidst the darkness of ShinRa's basement.

"This isn't over, tainted shmog!" she proclaimed loudly, giving him the thumbs down and dashing out the door before Genesis could continue his assault.

Allowing the obnoxious demoness to leave, since he wasn't really in a position to continue their fight, he switched his attention to his injured arm. The fact that the flames that had been dancing on his blade had died, prompted him to first make his way outside and to his –hopefully not stolen- Mercedes.

With sword still in hand, he moved guardedly up the unilluminated stairs, idly cradling his right arm. Before opening the basement door that would lead him to ShinRa's lobby, he peeped out through the broken window. His eyes scanned the vast surroundings cautiously, searching intently for hidden adversaries ready to ambush him.

When it was clear that no threat was looming, he made his way outside, though he refused to sheath his weapon and lower his guard. Again, standing just inside the building, he flattened his back against the wall and glance furtively out of the hole and into the solitary street. Content with his surveillance, he made his way outside and to his car.

Once inside, he locked the doors and turned on the roof light to better inspect the damage sustained. Gingerly, he began the painful task of unwinding the thick, leather cords before pulling out the five arrow tips. Luckily for him, the steel points barely managed to perforate the first layer of skin, the leather of his coat and armguards having taken the blunt of the attack.

Casting the souvenir of his battle aside, he used a cure spell to heal the superficial wounds that had been dripping blood. Once his mind was off of his wound, his thoughts switched to gloomier –and more important- subjects. Though he had no idea who the woman who attacked him was or who she worked for, he was positive he had felt something familiar clutch his heart when he'd first saw her. It almost felt like when—

_Jenova cells?_ He wondered with a worried frown. Indeed, the only times he'd felt that strange feeling –or rather, calling, was when he'd been in close proximity to other 'experiments'. People who had been injected with Jenova cells developed a 'link' to each other, the cells acting pretty much like magnets on their own accord.

"She said I am… tainted?" he murmured, leaning his head back and staring at the beige ceiling of his vehicle. Just what did the odd demoness mean by that? _Has it something to do with the fact that I was 'cured' by the Goddess of Gaia? _

After all, his degradation was due to part of his body rejecting the growth of his Jenova cells, wasn't it? At least that is what Dr. Hollander had assumed after testing his blood. Too bad they had been so persistently haunted by ShinRa, for the poet would have felt better if the Doctor had confirmed his theory. Still… it was the most plausible explanation.

So, if he took that into consideration, it was probable that his Jenova cells had been tampered with by Minerva in order to stop the degradation and, ultimately, avoid his death.

_Project J subjects, huh?_ He mused, twisting the key to ignite the engine. There was only one place –apart from this now useless building- where he could find classified information about Hojo's and Hollander's experiments.

"To Nibelheim, then!" he resolved.

With grim determination, he drove out of the dirty -and rather forgotten—city of Midgar. The fastest way to get to his destination would be to take a ship in Junon, more so since he was now even more hesitant to use the powers provided by his Jenova cells and flying was one of them.

Yes. He would just have to do this the traditional way and get on board one of the ships sailing for Costa del Sol. Hopefully, he would also be able to find some critical information about Sephiroth's whereabouts –if he was alive to begin with. The last thought made him press his lips into a thin, scornful line. With all his heart–though he would never admit it- the poet prayed that at least the older first class SOLDIER was still alive.

**-o0o-**

**Cloud Strife** was sitting on the hard ground. His knees were bent with his muscular arms resting upon them, as he lost himself in his memories. Blue mako eyes gazed at the almost crystalline water that was Aerith's tomb, the first rays of sunlight dabbing upon the ruined city like golden paint, a mockery of beauty where only death resided.

It took only a blink for the image of her bloodied form to appear behind his lids. The image was ever-present and everlasting, carved into the forefront of his mind never to be forgotten and never to be accepted. It was his fault that she had died. He had been standing mere inches away from her prostrated form, a stretch of his arm would have been all that was needed to touch her porcelain skin.

Yet, still he had been unable to save her. For Odin's sake, why hadn't he reacted to Sephiroth's approach? He may not have been a first class SOLDIER, but he had been a warrior no less! He should have done something! He should have fallen into action as soon as he'd sensed the dark angel coming! Instead, he had reacted too late and had watched as all life fled those beautiful emeralds, never to glint again as her lids had hid them from his view.

Cloud had promised her –as he had promised the friend that had died to save him before- that he would keep her safe, and he had shamefully failed them both. There could be no excuses and no absolution for him and his damned weakness. Had he been half the man Zack Fair had been, Aerith would still be alive –laughing, singing, smiling...

But below all that guilt and all that pain, the ultimate truth was that he 'missed' her to such an extent, that her absence caused a physical ache. Constantly and without mercy, he was reminded by his body that he needed to breathe and, if not for that, he would have probably fallen into the beckoning embrace of death.

The only thing that stopped him from actively ending his own misery, was the fact that Aerith would not approve. And he could not afford to have her hurt again, even more if he was the cause.

A girlish giggle snapped him off his angsty thoughts. His spine immediately straightened at having been intruded upon at such a vulnerable moment. With measured movements -which the swordsman hoped would be regarded as casual- he regained his feet, cursing the fact that his broad sword was still lodged into his motorcycle's compartment.

The giggling grew louder as the trespasser made her way towards him, stepping out from the ruins that had concealed her from his keen eyes. She unceremoniously padded out into the open, into the web of gold that came from the rising sun, before stopping abruptly ten feet away.

Cloud studied her in utter silence, taking in her strange –if not very threatening- appearance. She was tall, around 5'9 feet high, but incredibly slim. He realized with interest and concern that her eyes -though small- glinted with the luminescent green of mako energy. Dark blond hair was cut in a Mohawk style, with a thin lock of it running down to her lower back, moving in tune with the wind.

As his eyes moved down, he noted idly that her collarbone protruded out of her pearly skin sharply, showing its unsightly length up to her naked shoulder blades. A dark brown corset of leather and velvet hugged her upper body, further emphasizing her thinness. White pants were tight against her long legs, and beige boots, reaching up to her mid-calf covered her feet. From the heels of her shoes, however, two knives protruded like wicked talons, ready to cave out smiles of blood.

A long, beige scarf was twirled twice around her neck, the ends of the garment reaching down to her buttocks. Two beige armguards hid her forearms completely from view. Running down their leathery length, were two sharp, silver blades –their points sticking out of her hands like embedded swords.

Naturally, weapons meant a warrior and a warrior meant a fight. And even if she had made no attack so far, he still felt threatened. Once more, the male silently lamented his unarmed state. If this strange woman had come to fight, then he was going to have a hard time reaching his powerful blade while keeping his hide intact.

The woman continued to eye him with, odd as it was, pure merriment dancing in her eyes. To his further bafflement, her lips parted into an earsplitting smile that forced her lids to close three quarters.

"Oh, brother!" she said, opening her arms wide as if expecting him to run into her suspicious embrace. The deep frown that stole her brow, when he didn't move, confirmed his guess and the smile that was still on her lips quivered slightly in disappointment.

She lowered her arms back to her side and tilted her head to one side as though questioning his 'strange' attitude. Cloud fought the urge to do the same, crossing his arms instead. The tired male stood his ground defiantly –even if weaponless- allowing his golden brows to meet in the center so that his uncertainty could be visibly exposed. Perhaps this way the woman would state her business without him having to ask…

Guarded blue met amused green across the mausoleum of an eradicated race. Crushing silence rooted them each to their respective place, daring them to defy the tense atmosphere with movement or words.

"Oh my! I am soooo so-rry brother!" the woman suddenly sputtered, her tone 'almost' whiny in quality which, consequently, made Cloud flinch. "I really really really did 'not' mean to scare you, I promise!"

The woman –-which he guessed to be around her mid-twenties- raised one hand and touched the other to her heart. The movement was so thoughtless, that she almost maimed her outstretched left arm with her right sword.

"Oh!" she giggled, quickly moving the arm that was in danger. "Oh, I am soooo stupid!" Her eyes broke from his to stare at her right hand, while giggling uncontrollably, "I am soooo so-rry, hand! I almost cut you!"

_The hell… Is… is she crazy?_ His brow furrowed even more at her inane behavior. It was close to inconceivable, yet he's seen it with his own eyes. The woman had just apologized to her hand!

"Anyways," green eyes jumped back to him and the smile that was parting her thin lips grew on her face. "I came for you, brother. Soooo, I am so-rry if I am interrupting somethin' but I really really really need you to come with me, 'kay?"

Cloud just continued to look at her as though she had grown a second head, which wouldn't be that hard to imagine given the fact that she seemed comfortable addressing her limbs.

At his lack of participation in what was becoming a one-way conversation, the girl's smile switched down to a childish pout, "Pretty please?"

"Who are you?" he asked carefully, since the mere fact that her eyes glinted with mako was enough to make his skin prickle and the hair of his arms stand on end. Mako inside people meant ShinRa and ShinRa always brought trouble. If possible, he wanted nothing to do with her and whoever she worked for, especially if it was the company that had experimented on him!

"Oh! So-rry 'bout that, brother! I soooo forgot to introduce myself, right?" she gave two steps forward, stretching her hand towards him in a polite gesture, "Name's Zariel and I'm your sister! Isn't that great?"

Taking advantage of the fact that her eyes had close entirely due to her broader smile, he hastily stepped towards his nearby motorcycle. In a second, he was clutching at the hilt of his sword, but just when he was about to draw it, he froze.

"Oh, brother! Now that's soooo not polite, you know! You just ignored me!" the whiny voice came from just behind him, he could even feel her breath tickling the back of his neck. The sound –though childish- chilled him to the bone. Or maybe it was especially because of its childish quality that his blood turned to ice?

_When the hell did she move? _

"I guess I'll just have to teach you some manners, won't I?" the female beamed, making Cloud's eyes widened as he attested his impossible situation. One wrong move and he was sure the sword point, which she was lightly touching to his lower back, would be thrust into his frame, piercing skin and muscles faster than he could unsheathe his sword.

He closed his eyes, wishing he had the ability to talk his way out, when the sound of splashing water closely followed by a different –very unexpected but heartbreakingly welcomed- voice interrupted them.

"**Thundaga**!" a melodic voice yelled, making Cloud's attacker fall back in order to avoid being charred by the snaking lightning bolt that had been conjured.

The swordsman –elegantly pulling his sword out- spun and reflectively backed towards where he'd heard the voice of his savior. Afraid to be deceived yet daring to believe, he turned his head slowly towards the figure that was approaching him. Even from the corner of his eyes, he could see the tale tell pink color of a dress that had been soaked red the last time he'd seen it.

He gulped painfully and, ignoring the stupid Zariel, he focused his entire attention on the brunette that was now beside him, solidly real, painfully palpable. "A-Aerith," his voice was a whisper, as fragile as the string of hope that he'd never had the heart to destroy. Since the moment she had laid lifeless in his arms, he had hoped there would be a way to bring her back –to hold her in his arms again in all the glorious splendor of life.

Her eyes darted from the strange woman to him for a second and she prized him with one of her gentle smiles. It was a smile that conveyed how happy she was to be back, to see him alive and well. But it was also a gesture that promised a scolding for having clung to his misery so stubbornly.

"Don't worry, I am not going to disappear anytime soon. I'm back for good, Cloud," she comforted, most probably sensing his building unease.

He nodded once in both understanding and relief, before refocusing on the woman that was just looking at them at a complete loss.

"I'm curious, though," Aerith's tone was light, but he could hear the solemnity hidden below. "Who's your friend, Cloud?"

"Oh! That was soooo cool the way you raised from the water like a pink siren!" Zariel squeaked, moving towards the brunette with a bounce in her step. Every action of her screamed 'bubbly airhead', yet it only served to increase the swordsman's anxiousness.

Beyond a shadow of a doubt, Cloud believed that behind that cheery, oblivious façade laid a deadly fighter that would kill them while smiling broadly as she did it. So, when the woman was but a meter away from Aerith, he hastily positioned himself in front of her –shielding her from the menace that had come to seek him out.

Zariel pouted, "Well, aren't you really really really selfish, brother! I just wanna say hi…," her smile widened and the slits of her eyes focused on the woman he was intent on protecting–this time, without failing- even at the cost of his own life. Zariel's eyes opened halfway as she finished, "…to the Cetra."

"Touch her and die," Cloud seethed, his voice filled with so much venom that Zariel's lips quivered, threatening to bring down her unnerving smile.

"I'm soooo so-rry, brother," she said, her voice still obliviously happy. "I really really really don't wanna fight you… Soooo if you could just move and let me say hi to the pink Cetra… pretty please?"

"You'll have to go through me first," he challenged, his blue eyes coming alight with the flame of determination. There was no way in hell he was going to allow harm to come to Aerith again. Least of all now that she was finally back. No, he would protect her this time until his very last breath.

Zariel sighed dramatically as though in defeat. But her knees bended slightly, belying her yielding attitude. "Soooo be it, brother!"

With that, she charged, prompting Cloud to do the same. Steel met steel, the clashing sound of the battle ringing through the place, weaving with the echoing whispers of a race that was revived with the return of a the last of their kind.

**-o0o-**

**Tifa Lockhart** woke up to the sound of a door being opened. Peeling her lids apart rather reluctantly, she turned around in time to see a bare-chested Sephiroth strolling out of the bathroom. All drowsiness drained out of her in seconds, at being greeted by so lovely an image. The General was mechanically toweling his silver hair, unaware of the wine eyes that were watching him – quaffing him with unquenchable thirst.

His strong pectorals and his enticing abdomen were covered by a thin sheen of water, courtesy of the vapor that had been produced by his shower. Entranced, she watched his muscles rippling beneath his smooth skin as he continued his careful ministrations.

_Oh, what I wouldn't give to be one of those drops moving down—_

"Ah, you are finally awake," he said.

_-to be swallowed by the earth right now._

She groaned inaudibly, trying to squirm her way down the duvet without making her embarrassment more evident. He just had to catch her ogling him, didn't he! It was so typical!

Feeling his intense gaze on her, she cursed to hell trying not to make the intent of her actions noticeable, and ducked under the covers. It was bad enough knowing her treacherous face was most probably flushed with a glaring hue of red.

Shortly thereafter, she yelped in surprise when she felt him pulling the covers off of her. A small smirk was tugging at the corners of his lips, most probably at hearing the odd sound his actions had garner from her.

"Come on, we need to get going. You can sleep in the car," he eyed her carefully and she wondered if it was possible to be burned by shame and die of it. "Are you feeling alright?"

Her wine eyes narrowed dangerously at him and the SOLDIER merely quirked a perfect eyebrow in response, though it was clear he was amused –if the twinkling of his eyes was any indication.

Rolling out of bed, she pushed past him –none too gently—and disappeared behind the bathroom door. One glance at the mirror was all it took for her to groan, this time rather audibly. Her face was not a shade of pink, it was painted 'red'! Not to mention that her hair was horribly disheveled and… yes, quite knotted.

Determine to fix herself as best she could, she splashed cold water to her face in an attempt to put out the fire dancing joyously upon her skin. Grinning at successfully lowering the color to a more elegant shade of pink, she began methodically combing her hair with her fingers, trying to get as many knots as possible. Finally, she brushed her teeth with the items provided by the inn.

That done, and with recovered grace, she pulled the door open and stepped into their room. Sephiroth was working on the straps of his leather coat and she couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed that she hadn't enjoyed the unobstructed sight of his body a bit more.

Knowing those thoughts would not help her in her task of appearing invulnerable to his presence, she shook her head and chose to concentrate instead on other issues. Naturally, she surveyed the room in search for something that she could use to instigate a safe subject –away from anything that had to do with him and his yummy body.

Just when she was beginning to fear she would utterly fail at this, her eyes caught sight of two bags lying by the foot of the bed."Where did these come from?" she asked, pointing at them and feeling her natural curiosity ordering her to find out.

"Left one's yours," Sephiroth replied, moving to the vanity and taking the brush.

"Mine?" she asked, opening the bag to find it filled with three blouses, two pairs of jeans, pajama shorts and three pairs of undergarments alongside other commodities. "Where did all this come from?"

"I had it stocked in the car in case of an emergency," he explained.

Leave it to him to plan four steps ahead. Turning around to face him, she flashed him with her widest smile. Again, the martial artists couldn't help but accept how welcome a change it was to have someone taking care of her. Most of the time, it was her who gave her all for other people, yet Sephiroth was giving her way more than what she gave him. The last thought made her feel a bit guilty, a sentiment that –more often than not- seemed to link her in one way or another to him.

The male frowned, obviously confused by her drastic change of demeanor. Tifa bit her lower lip but, before her eyes could trail to the ground, she saw the brush on his hand and began to regard it with interest.

Before the General could ask or say something, she closed the distance separating them and, gently, took the comb from his hand. He raised his inquisitive eyebrow but, like he always did, he let her do as she pleased without complaining and without obstructing her.

"Sit down," she instructed, taking the seat of the vanity and pulling it out for him to take.

With an amused and curious expression, he took the seat offered. Though his expectation was silent, she could still tell he was wondering what she was up to. The fact that the ex-SOLDIER was unable to guess what she was about to do, made the smile that had slipped off of her face return full force.

As soon as the barmaid reached for his hair, however, she felt him tense slightly. "I'm going to brush your hair for you, 'kay?" she explained cheerfully.

"That is not necessary, I can-"

"Fine, I 'want' to comb your hair, Sephiroth," she interrupted. The fighter's eyes glinted with unrestrained merriment as she challenged him to deny her the wish that only 'he' could grant.

He sighed and yielded, "As you wish."

Her smile widened. Never mind that she was most probably taking advantage of him, she had always been fascinated by his hair and, touching it, she realized it felt just as beautiful as it looked. It was soft, smooth and silky and she couldn't help bury her hand into it, allowing his locks to filter between her fingers in an odd, shuddering caress.

Slowly, the tension of his shoulders ebbed away and, glancing at the mirror, she found that the ex-SOLDIER had closed his eyes, relishing mutely in her gentle touch. The barmaid smiled placidly, wishing she could do this every day not only because she liked it but also because he seemed to enjoy it too.

Humming the song her father used to play for her in her birthday, she continued to perform her sellf-appointed task. After a while, her wordless melody was interrupted.

"Why?" his voice made her stop her ministrations for a second. She glanced again at the mirror, but his eyes were still close.

"Why what?" she prompted, not really sure what he was getting to.

He did open his eyes this time, verdant locking with wine from across the reflection of the mirror. "Why would you want to comb my hair?" he truly sounded confused by her request, but just as keen to understand.

She smiled, unconsciously dipping both hands into his hair and combing it with her fingers, gently raking at his skull as she did it. With unhidden interest, the fighter watched as the swordsman's lids closed heavily and he, probably inadvertently, tilted his head slightly back.

A mischievous part of her screamed to do it again and again until she pulled from his lips a sound of pleasure. And though the temptation was almost too strong to ignore, she forced herself to take things easy –else, he would not allow her to touch his hair again.

His eyes found hers after a moment, the intensity of his look was enough to destroy another one of her avid fantasies. Remembering his question from earlier, she decided to answer as truthfully as possible.

"You've done a lot for me," Tifa said, her fingers idly playing with his hair. "You've given me so much and I feel like I haven't done enough to show you my appreciation. So, I came up with this…"

"Tifa," his rumbling baritone made her heart skip a beat. She loved to hear his voice so much. "You needn't feel as though you have to 'repay' me. I do not mind doing what I've been doing."

"It's just that you have been taking such good care of me… And I don't want you to feel like it is your duty to be nice to me-"

"Has it never occurred to you that I may be enjoying it, Tifa?"

Her breath caught in her throat and she felt a blush creep to her cheeks. _Do you really mean that, Sephiroth?_

As if having heard her question, he stood up and turned to her. Slowly, he took the comb from her weaken fingers and placed it on the vanity without taking his eyes off of her. With a smooth sweeping movement, her small hand was cradled by one of his bigger ones.

"You've done the hardest thing anyone has ever done…" The ex-SOLDIER's eyes softened under her gaze. "You gave me –the one who probably hurt you the most—not only forgiveness but also another chance, yes. But," he paused for emphasis, "that is not the only reason that I try to take care of you and protect you. I do so mainly because I want to." He paused as if considering whether to say more or not. In the end, he did, "Plus, I like to see your real smile, not the one you use to put everyone at ease, but the one that lights your entire face."

She blushed even more, but flashed him a very honest and very wide smile.

He chuckled, "Tifa Lockhart, simply put, I find your company truly pleasant."

She laughed softly -and very nervously- and when the ex-SOLDIER let go of her hand, she found herself missing the contact with surprising intensity.

"Now that that's settled," he said, moving to retrieve their bags. "We better get going. If we time it right, we'll be able to get to Junon by midday tomorrow."

She nodded, hurriedly put on her shoes, and followed him outside with a smile that seemed unable to leave her face –not that she wanted to, especially now that she knew he liked her smile.

Ten minutes later, they were driving -just as fast as the day before- down the highway that would eventually lead them to Junon.

**-o0o-**

**Reeve Tuesti **leaned on the threshold of Rie's laboratory. As foreseen, she had –like always- fallen asleep on her desk, her crossed arms pillowing her head. Ever since he found her almost two years ago in a wrecked ShinRa facility, she had never –on her own accord- gone to her appointed room to sleep. It was always him, who ended up carrying her back to her bed in a routine from which they could not deviate. Or was it that he didn't want to?

Sighing he approached her silently, not wishing to disturb her slumber. He knew that sooner or later the nightmares would come and wake her up, but that was much later. He knew this for a fact because he'd always stayed close to her, in case she 'needed' him.

The first time, however, had been pure coincidence. He had left her in her room but had later been walking nearby when the screaming commenced. He had busted through the door and found her on the floor, folding onto herself in a fetal position and cradling her right arm –the same one that, as her clothes reveal, she had consciously or unconsciously chosen to hide.

He had tried to pull her into his arms in an effort to comfort her, but she had flinched from his touch and so he had not pursued it. However, he had stayed there, giving her support by sitting on the floor and simply watching her with tender eyes. After a moment of silence, when she was calmer, she had sat before him –blinking in confusion and brushing her tears with a frown. And then, to his further puzzlement, she had enquired as to what had happened.

Reeve had assumed that whatever she dreamt about was blocked when she was awake. Given that she remembered nothing of why she was in the ShinRa building or why she had a number tattooed between her shoulder blades, he guessed her nightmares had to do with whatever experiments they did on her.

The male, naturally, could not blame her mind from trying to protect her from the pain of her dark memories. Had the positions been reversed, he would probably have done the same…

Still, even when thinking like this, Reeve couldn't help but feel curious. The man in him wished he could help her forget about it all, so that she would be at peace even when asleep. But the scientist in him –which fortunately or not, was the dominant part—wanted to make her remember so that the mystery of her past could finally be revealed.

It disgusted him the part of him that –even now- looked at her as an experiment and not a girl who had suffered for ShinRa's greed. So was he really that different from those who turned her into a test subject? After all, even if he would never actually experiment on her, he kept on prodding her at any chance he got. The scientist in him insistently tried to force her to remember –not to accept her past and moved on with her life- but simply to satisfy his depraved curiosity, to add whatever information she had to offer to his vast intellect.

"Oi, Rie did you find anything about the destroyed apartme-" Reeve turned to find Yuffie had stopped in the doorway, her eyes jumping from him to the slumbering scientist and back again. The male immediately felt like groaning when he noticed the ninja's eyes narrowing. "You stalking her again, Old man?"

Heaving a profound sigh, he said, "I am only going to answer your first question, since that's the one that's not inane."

"Hey!"

"No, we haven't yet finished running the test on the items we retrieved from the destroyed apartment. We have, however, identified the body of the man found dead." He moved towards a desk and pulled out the second folder of the pile that was there. He flipped it open and read, "Hank Morrison, thirty eight years old. He lived in the same building, one floor up. He was the owner of a small restaurant near Tifa's bar, but that's about as far as we can link him to her."

"Who was the owner of the targeted apartment?" Yuffie asked, peering at the photo of the death guy and grimacing.

"Roth Masa," Reeve answered.

"…And?"

"That's it," he explained tiredly. "He had everything, social security number, insurance… but the rest of his information didn't check out. His work place? Nonexistent. As was his birth certificate –though it did look authentic enough to fool people who are not as minute in their examinations as me."

"So… You think this attack is linked in any way with the one of Teef's bar?" Yuffie enquired, her anxiousness evident in her tone.

"Most probably," the former spy confessed. "Two witnesses said they saw a silver haired man leaving the building from their windows. Their description of him matched one of the warriors who fought Bahamut."

Silence followed their hushed conversation. When the pause seemed as though it would stretch forever, the rose of Wutai spoke."Shouldn't we wake her?" she asked, pointing at the scientists.

Reeve shook his head and, in answer, ambled towards her and –quite easily, belying his slim complexion- scooped her on his arms. Yuffie looked at him with unhidden amazement, which made the older male frowned with uncertainty.

"Yes?" he prompted, leaving the laboratory with the ninja following his lead.

"I would never have guessed you could lift her so easily!" she frowned with suspicion, "Or is this one of your customs." Before he could say something, she pinched him in the arm. Hard. "Guess it's really you, old man," she chirped, ignoring the death glare he sent her way. Too bad the daggers sent by his eyes could not maim.

Unable to fight the scowl that inevitably settled on his features, he said chilly, "I do not mean to brag, but I 'am' quite strong."

The woman just giggled and continued to follow with amusement in her eyes. The WRO's leader wished he could cage her up somewhere and simply construct a puppet of her to avoid inquiries as to her whereabouts. Eventually –much to Reeve's relief- they reached Rie's room.

Once the young female was tucked in bed, Reeve stepped outside and closed the door softly. To his further annoyance, Yuffie was still there –a broad and mischievous smile on her face. It was an expression that sent alarms ringing inside his head.

"May I help you with something else, Yuffie?"

The ninja nudge him in the ribs playfully, "You luv the science geek, Reeve?"

The question that should have made him roll his eyes, this time made him reflect upon his odd relationship with Rie. Did he love her like Yuffie said? In fact, did he love her at all?

_Can I love what I see most of the times as an experiment?_

The Wutai princess must have sensed his apprehension because her smile was quickly replaced by a worried frown. "Oi, oldie, are you-"

"Every time I'm with her, I love her, yes. But not in the way you imply… it is more like a caring for a younger sibling. I think I truly wish to protect her from the darkness of human nature." He crossed his arms and he didn't know anymore if he was talking for the sake of explaining it to her or 'himself'. "When she is out of my sight… even now that she is sleeping and I am not standing beside her, however, I don't think of her as my sister…" he turned to his comrade, allowing her to see how much this confession was troubling him.

"What do you think of her then?" her voice was solemn and, had he not been standing beside her, he would have never thought it possible. But this only made the rest of his confession all the more difficult. Too bad, he still felt the need to get it off his chest.

"I see her as what she was," his eyes trailed to the closed door, knowing that at any second her screams and sobs were going to be leaking through the barrier of wood.

As if heeding his thoughts, Rie woke screaming. Yuffie was startled but, instead of running to her, she stood waiting for him to do something.

"I keep regarding her as an experiment," he whispered, moving away from the only person who now knew his secret and disappearing inside Rie's room. It only took a second of seeing her balled on the floor for his heart to be filled with love.

Right now, she was his sister again and, at least for a while, his guilt and the disgust he felt for his morbid interest in her past, was mercifully brushed aside.

**To be Continued… **


	14. Fated Reunion

**R Disclaimer: **I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any of its characters. I am just burrowing them for a while.

**Author's notes: **So, I hope you guys like this chapter. I was planning on including some Vincent, but I got carried away with Seph and Teef, lol. However, there should be some Vinny next chapter. ~Cheers!

**Quick thanks to log-on readers: **Tigerfur, expressz641, Eevee-san, Kelana-ti, AlexJ69, GodricGryff, CNome, Selendrii, Ghedea, Runamaria Haaku**, **Kairi-loves-Sushi, butterfly-aquamaiden28 and ChibiDaveyHavok.

**Quick replies to anonymous readers: **Galiriol _(Glad you enjoyed SephxTeef moment. I am truly sorry, though, I can't bring Zack back. I agree, AerithxZack is better, but in this fic she will probably stay with Cloud)_, E _(Thanks!), _Pearlwhite _(Thanks! Glad you enjoy the chapter. Don't worry, there still will be more Cloud Aerith –they just got interrupted. And I hope I change your idea about Reeve, he is –in my humble opinion- quite an intriguing character), _Sephiroth_Owa13 _(Indeed, Cloud should be less emo now, lol. Sadly, I can't bring Zack back since that would entail a love triangle and I am not that much into those. So, in this case, Aerith would stay with Cloud. You'll just have to wait and see what is reaction would be when he realizes Teef is with Seph, lol. Glad you enjoyed TXS moments!) _and Caz _(indeed, who hasn't met a Zariel somewhere along the way, lol. Glad you enjoyed the chapter)._

**Edited by: **Res

**Enjoy** and don't forget to **review**!

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"_I'll lean on you and you lean on me and we'll be okay."_

_-Dave Mathew Bond-_

"**One Winged Angels"**

By: FenixPhoenix

**Chapter 14: "Fated Reunion"**

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**Tifa** **Lockhart **chewed absentmindedly on her lower lip. Had she had it her way, she would still be running her fingers through Sephiroth's silky locks of hair.

_For Odin's sword, the man sure takes good care of his hair!_ She frowned as she tried to recall seeing him 'actually' doing something to his hair, other than combing it or nonchalantly toweling it. _Wait! Or… does he?_

She suddenly wasn't as certain as she'd been mere seconds ago. The martial artist had been living with him for around a month already, and she had neither seen him blow dry his hair, nor had she spotted any other hair products beside the shampoo and conditioner in the bathroom.

Could it be that the softness of his hair was… genetic? Was that even possible? If it was, then she was truly envious!

"I am really curious about what thoughts that mind of yours is entertaining. More so, since your lower lip is in danger of bleeding and it would be quite a shame," his melodic baritone interrupted her musings, making her blush when his words -and the compliment to her lips therein- registered.

She smiled and turned to gaze at his sharp profile. He gave her a sidelong glance, but then his eyes swept back to the highway. Only when his attention was force to be divided between her and driving, did Tifa felt bold enough to 'tease' the handsome General.

"Do you 'really' want to know, Sephiroth?" she enquired slyly. As soon as she said that, she watched and waited eagerly for his reaction. Sure enough, his brow furrowed slightly, most probably at trying to determine what her tone meant. However, his skin soon regained its smoothness and, in its place, his lips quirked upwards at one corner. Perhaps he had caught on to the game she was trying to instigate?

"Yes," he responded laconically, sparing her another thoughtful glance. He was probably contemplating whether to park the car in order to provide his full attention. The mere thought that it could be true, made her feel something between plain giddiness and smug satisfaction.

Still, her smile intensified when she answered with nothing but the truth, "Your hair."

"My hair…?" he repeated, not caring to mask how flabbergasted her words rendered him.

When Tifa nodded cheerfully, a single word came, uninvited, into her mind. _Déjà-vu_. Well, not long ago she had been the one asking while he provided the extremely vague answers, right? It was only fair that this time, she was the one who got to peak his interest.

The General seemed further puzzled by her lack of a proper explanation. So after a short moment of silence, he prompted, "What about it?"

When she didn't answer, he spared a glance her way and cocked his inquisitive eyebrow. She fought the urge to peck his cheek -that's how 'cute' he looked all confused—and instead, graced him with an answer.

"I was wondering how you got it to be so soft and silky," she admitted, fighting the urge to run her hand through his hair as she became entranced by it again. Unashamedly, she added in a wistful voice, "I am envious."

He chuckled at her last comment, the sound rich and beautiful. "I merely use an average-brand shampoo and sometimes conditioner… But why would you be envious?"

Her eyebrows rose in surprise. Was he serious? One look at him, though, was enough to know he truly had no idea. She was amazed that the man who knew so much about the world could also know so little about society.

"Well, because your hair is beautiful," Tifa revealed, her tone matter-of-factly but heartily so.

Utterly enraptured, she watched the ex-SOLDIER taking the tip of his gloved hand between his teeth. He pulled the leather garment off casually, yet Tifa gawked at how sexy he looked when performing that particular action. Other –much more interesting- ideas of how he could better use those strong teeth, were slowly encroaching upon her very imaginative mind. But, just as she was about to plunge into those fantasies, his voice dissipated them with an odd request.

"Lean towards me a little," he instructed, his eyes still on the road.

"W-why?" she asked, but even while waiting for his answer, she was already doing as told.

"I wish to… 'test' something," he explained, his voice attaining a tone that she could only identify as a mixture of seductiveness and amusement. The tingle of amusement draping his words couldn't be blamed, though. The last time –which was only yesterday to be exact- 'she' had been the one experimenting, and things had gone quite pleasantly for the two of them.

The fighter's mind was just starting to wonder if they would ever kiss again, when her brain suddenly went completely blank. Without thinking, she closed her eyes and leaned into his touch when the man ran his bare hand through her hair. He did it once, unfortunately. But, as he was untangling his digits, he took a small lock between his fingers. He rubbed it for a long, silent while between his thumb and index finger, almost as though trying to thoroughly study its texture.

"I was correct," he mumbled, releasing her hair by letting it slide slowly out of his hold.

She turned to him, her temporal pleasure-induced inebriation losing its power and allowing her mind to somewhat clear. "Huh? …I mean, about what?"

The ex-SOLDIER used that lopsided smirk that always managed to send her heart racing. "Your hair is just as soft, if not more," he concluded with satisfaction. "I find it very pleasing."

She fingered her own hair self-consciously, and couldn't help but laugh heartily at the turn of the conversation. Her cheeks turned a light shade of pink and she looked at him with glinting eyes. Shiva, it was amazing how easily he could compliment her with that smug matter-of-fact tone. And she liked that, a lot.

Nonetheless, it did struck her as strange –in a positive way, of course- how it seemed effortless for him to make her feel… well, beautiful. She wondered if he was even aware of how much his words really affected her, how much a single compliment made her feel.

When she was back under control, she could fight the strong appeal of prying into his life no longer –not that she struggled all that much. "Sephiroth, may I ask a personal question?" she began, leaning back on her seat sideways, so that she was facing him fully.

He tilted his head slightly to one side and granted her petition, "I'm listening."

"Why do you wear your hair long?" That was something she had always wondered, ever since she first met him all those years ago in her hometown, right before his meeting with Jenova and his subsequent psychotic breakdown.

To her unexpected surprise, she noticed his face taking on a look of bottomless contemplation. A question that should have either been answered with a simple retort or brushed away with a laugh, was instead being pondered upon somberly.

Tifa realized, just then, that perhaps there was more to Sephiroth than met the eye. She had always believed he wore his hair long mostly because of his sense of fashion. Yet now that she thought about it, he was not someone she would consider vain in the least. Quite the opposite, in fact, the man was way too practical to do something simply for the sake of looking good, more so if that something was, in itself, rather bothersome.

Having long hair, and this she knew from experience, was pretty impractical in her book, especially if your life revolved around fighting and trudging on with little to no sleep for days. After all, it got in the way more often than not and required too much time to wash and care for. So then, why would this first class ex-SOLDIER resolve to leave his hair long, regardless of all the problems it brought? If there was indeed a reason, it must definitely be something very important, and therefore extremely interesting.

"What's your theory?" he hazarded, his tone awfully blank –professionally hiding anything that would give away his thoughts. It had been long since last he'd hid from her, and she couldn't help but feel slightly hurt.

Wishing to lighten the situation, the barmaid gave a nonchalant shrug and responded, "Vanity."

"Vanity, huh?" he echoed softly, his eyes still looking forward, though she could see he was hardly paying attention to what was happening outside his head.

Thinking she might have just insulted him, Tifa quickly tried to make amends and pretty much blurted, "Don't get me wrong, though. You do look incredibly 'gorgeous' with your hair long…!"

Silence.

_Noooooo, I did NOT just say that… Did I? _Her cheeks turned a shade of bright scarlet after realizing she had just confessed some very embarrassing and very private thoughts. How was it that a thing that sounded so 'scientific' in her head, sounded so snobbishly inane when said out loud?_Way to go, Teef… I'm sure that was exactly what he was hoping for. He'll probably ask if he can quote you when next he is asked that stupid question. _

"That sounded way better in my head," she excused rapidly, her tone low and mortified. However, the blush and her defensive anger disappeared when she noticed he was mulling over something quite carefully. Whether that something was her first statement or her second, she had no idea –but felt too hesitant to find out. _Surely he isn't still thinking about the vanity thing, is he? Shiva, did I really hurt his feelings?_

Before her rising concern could settle upon her rushing mind, the ex-SOLDIER seemed to snap out of his reverie. "I guess you could say that I wear it long mostly out of vanity," he agreed, but that just made Tifa all the more certain in believing that there was some kind of underlying confession to his words. It strongly reminded her of when he'd first acknowledged that SOLDIER had indeed 'crippled' him.

And why wouldn't she feel at least slightly suspicious of something else being hinted upon with that cryptic comment? After all, if he truly thought himself vain, he wouldn't have had to think that much about his answer, nor would he be relaying it so solemnly, right? She was just about to ponder more upon this, when his voice made her attention switch back to him.

"I remember you used to wear your hair almost as long as me," the General pointed out, clearly trying to veer the spotlight away from him and the dark, mysterious motive for keeping his hair lengthy. "Is there a reason for your change?"

Tifa felt immediately uncomfortable, something he must have sensed because he spared a longer glance at her. However, the barmaid had shifted on her seat by then so that she was facing forward, making it an obvious point that she wasn't about to acknowledge his look.

The fact that her arms folded across her chest could also be regarded as an indication of her drastic change of mood. She did so unconsciously, but she didn't even attempt to rectify her poise, knowing that her body language spoke volumes of her sudden discomfort.

A long pause ensured and, though he did not push the subject, she knew he was interested to know about it, probably just as much as she had been seconds ago with him. Only –unlike her- politeness made him hold his tongue. Hell, the man had way more discipline than her hands down. After a while, she sighed. He had been honest so far, so it was only fair that she extended the same courtesy, no matter how awkward it was.

"I…," she cleared her throat, trying to push the lump that had settled there out of the damn way. "I vowed not to cut my hair until the demon that blazed my hometown was destroyed," she confided, careful to avoid reminding him that said being had also killed her father. After all, the demon 'had' indeed been destroyed.

She felt the unavoidable tension settling between them and hated it. This was why she hadn't wanted to answer. With baby steps they had created something akin to friendship –or even something much more intimate, especially after their kiss—so naturally she was afraid this would bring them back to square one.

"I apologize," he said it softly, his voice ringing with heartbreaking regret and blinding honesty.

Desiring nothing more than to reassure him that she did not blame him for anything that happened anymore, she did the only thing instinct offered as a solution. She reached for the hand that he'd slipped out of the leather glove, and took it firmly in hers. Since he'd done the same thing back at the Inn to assure her of his good intentions, she knew that this was the best way to put him at ease on the matter. Or at the very least, she hoped so.

"That demon was destroyed three years ago. You know that, right?" she asked, caressing the back of his palm with her thumb in what she trusted was a soothing her relief, she felt him squeezing her hand. A tentative smile graced his features and, when he glanced at her, his eyes were thankful.

"He has…," he agreed and, to her utmost shock, he brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of her palm affectionately.

Odin, his lips felt wonderfully soft against her skin. The unexpected contact, though chaste, left her eagerly craving for more. Those tempting lips were soon going to break the fragile string of control that was restraining her from pulling him into a passionate kiss on that mouth of his.

Waves of warmth crashed upon her mercilessly, prompting her heart to accelerate as tingles of electricity ran down her oversensitive skin. Giddiness filled her and pushed logic aside without hesitation. It would be an understatement to say that, when her dancing brain registered the simple fact that he hadn't let go of her hand, she was beyond happy. Tifa Lockhart was nothing short of blissfully ecstatic!

By the time he turned to look at her again, she was smiling –surely quite goofily—and looking at him with dreamy wine orbs. It was incredibly how this man just made her feel so…so very… 'girly'.

"Thank you, Tifa," he whispered, squeezing her hand for emphasis.

She tilted her head to one side, "For what?"

Sephiroth only smiled and, for once, he didn't answer. The thing was, he didn't really have to.

**-o0o-**

**Cloud** **Strife **parted with his opponent for the sixth time in less than a quarter of an hour… maybe. He was so busy fighting, that time had become inconsequential.

The two Jenova-infused warriors were panting slightly from the exertion of the fight. Aerith, for her part, was much more composed, given that she had been supporting Cloud with magic as oppose to using melee attacks.

Mutely, Zariel flashed him a tired smile before breaking into an unnaturally quick sprint. Cloud brought his sword up in time to parry one of her weapons, spinning out of the way when her other sword was brought into play. The ex-SOLDIER jumped backwards and landed in a low crouch. With quick movements followed by a couple of clicking sounds, he pulled out a lean blade from within the center of his broad sword. He had resolved it was only fair to have two weapons too.

"Oh! That's a really really really neat trick!" Zariel beamed, eyeing his swords with unhidden interest, her eyes glinting with amazement.

After the whole meteor incident, Cloud had discarded Zack's sword, too ashamed to use it after having failed him in protecting Aerith, the only person he had asked him to look after. The old weapon, even now, was somewhere in the outskirts of Midgar, protruding out the earth to mark a grave. In that precise piece of land, two souls were put to rest more than three years ago. In a metaphorical way, that grave was for his old self and Zack Fair.

Why? Because the day Zack died at the hands of ShinRa's cold-blooded troops, a part of Cloud had died with him. At the same time, the two SOLDIERs became, unknowingly and inevitably, one -for while the second-class took something from Cloud into the afterlife, the blond kept something of him in the land of the living.

So when Cloud had made the decision to mark that grave with the trustworthy sword that held so many memories, he likewise resolved he couldn't possibly stay weaponless. Thus, he'd made a sword based on the broadsword he had faithfully been using in his fight against ShinRa, Sephiroth and Jenova.

But this new weapon, he'd done it as a reflection of himself, as oppose to creating something to hold his dreams and the dreams of those who came before him. So his sword ended up being a hybrid. The powerful weapon, thus, had blades within blades, a symbol for his own shattered persona. For Cloud realized that he had dreams within dreams, hopes within hopes, pain within pain.

In fact, not long ago, he had acknowledged that ever since Zack's death, he had been more than one person –acting like someone else because his own personality had been broken and mixed with his friend's. He, Cloud Strife, was as much a hybrid soul as his weapon was a hybrid sword. Maybe it was, because of that, that he felt much more at ease while wielding it…

Suddenly, Zariel shifted in place, her green mako eyes still studying his creation. The unthreatening movement, however, was enough to stop his musings of the past, forcing him to concentrate in the here and the now.

"Oh, brother! Does that thing have more neat tricks?" she squealed, clapping once to show her brimming excitement.

The blond didn't say anything. Instead, he allowed his actions to speak for themselves, as he breached the distance between them with four wide strides. The standstill broken, the fight resumed with even greater intensity. The swordsmen danced to the rhythm of Aerith's chants, with the clashing of their weapons acting as the drums of their private war. They sliced, slashed, clashed, parried and spun around in a dangerous choreography of unparallel skill.

When Zariel's blade managed to bite at his unguarded shoulder, however, Cloud felt his primal part raging and demanding payback. His lean body began releasing a flush of adrenaline that, in turn, pushed him to achieve greater physical performance, until mind-imposed limits were broken by his uncontrollable instinct for survival.

With a click, his leaner sword was back inside the carcass of his main one. He spun the sword twice before, this time, the hybrid broke into several pieces. Four lean but sharp blades propelled towards his confused opponent, glinting with an eerie blue light of pure mako energy.

Still holding his main weapon, he sped towards her and swept it sideways with mighty strength. Zariel was quick to parry the weapon, but barely. She was pushed back by the force of the blow and, before she could compose herself, Cloud was already reaching for his second weapon –which was floating in the air, ready to be used. He took it, his entire body glinting gold as his Jenova cells woke to lend their aid. He pounced upon the woman, his sword coming down in a crescent arc. She tried moving out of the way, but the weapon still managed to kiss her shoulder, cutting deeply through skin and muscle.

Zariel yelped as a stream of blood began coating her arm with bright crimson, but Cloud was not finished yet. In fact, he had barely started. He jumped for his next sword while he pushed the second one into his main blade. He launched himself in his opponent's direction like a rocket, retrieved third sword held tilted downward by his side. He moved the blade upwards in the last second, so that that the tip pierced his opponent's side just as he passed her by.

Cloud pulled the weapon into its original place after using it. Once his hand was free, he took his fourth weapon in a tight hold. The golden-glowing warrior back-flipping, cat wheeling in the air with his sword stretched. The blade sliced the crook of Zariel's shoulder and neck, making her fall to her knees in throbbing pain.

As soon as he touched ground behind the bleeding woman, he clicked his weapon back into his broader sword and took his last blade. He lunged towards Zariel, intent on finishing her off, but before he could plunged his weapon into the back of her neck, the woman threw herself –none too graceful- out of the way.

Tiredness washed his adrenaline away and Cloud was forced to stop to recover his breath. Instead of merging his last blade with his bastard sword, he kept it in his hand, ready to use them both to counter Zariel's next attack. However, the smiling woman seemed to have other things in mind. Standing up on wobbling feet, she clutched at the two cuts of her bleeding shoulder gingerly.

"Jeez, brother, you sure are really really really jealous, huh?" She said between short intakes of breath, amusement barely covering her irritation. "Don't you think that was a tiny winy bit too much?"

Cloud forced his lungs to breathe deeply in order to stop his shallow pants. He was attempting, with all his will, to hide the fact that he was extremely exhausted. When was the last time he had even had a good night rest or a healthy meal, anyways?

"You know what, fine!" Zariel said with that whiny voice that made him flinch despite his efforts to appear unaffected. "I just wanted to say hi to the pink Cetra, you didn't have to be a mean jerk about it." She pouted, "It's not every day you see one, after all! She is like… an endanger species, in case you haven't noticed!"

The swordsman growled at that. He didn't like the fact that this dense 'woman' was referring to Aerith almost as though she was some sort of exotic animal.

"Okay, okay, so-rry! I get the point, brother!" the woman sighed mockingly, raising her free hand in a placating manner when he raised his sword. "Since right now I am really really really angry at you, I'll be leaving. Don't worry your tiny little head, though. I'll be back for you soon enough." She smiled widely while giving a step back, "I'll tell our family you say hi, okie? Well… bye-bye!"

With that, she spun around and disappeared behind the broken walls of an old building nearby. Cloud was just getting ready to follow her –thoughts of finishing what his enemy had started flowing through his head- when he heard a gentle voice freezing him in place.

"You haven't been taking good care of yourself, have you?" Aerith chided but, when he turned to face her, he could read, not anger, but profound worry in her emerald eyes.

Shiva, she looked so very… beautifully real, alluringly palpable…

In that precise moment, where agitation was lost underneath a well-earned respite, everything –the full weight of comprehending what was happening, of the fact that she was really there, solid enough to touch even if he hadn't done it yet- brought him boneless to his knees.

His sword slipped out of his slacked fingers, breaking the fragile silence with a loud 'thud' that would have woken the resting souls of the ancients if such a deed was even possible.

For the fire of Phoenix, she 'looked' so very real…! But was she truly… alive?

_It doesn't matter! She's here… _he told that part of him that refused to believe this was real –too afraid of the pain that always came after cruel reality decided to take her away... just like it always did. Yet he still couldn't help it. After waiting for so long, after shaking nightmares and dreams of hope, she had come to him! She stood here, before him, in all her glorious life, untouched by the hand of time even after years of lying in her watery tomb.

But he'd had dreams before. He'd dreamed of looking at her like this, of standing before her thinking she was real, only to have her shatter under his clumsy touch. How could he not find it hard to believe, impossible even when he had been –slowly but surely- losing his mind over her death for the past three years?

His eyes closed as hot tears invaded them. Never in his life had a dream seemed more real, her image so accurate and so sharply defined. Beads of his soul's blood came running out his eyes, streaming down his cheeks unchecked in an effort to release some of the painful pressure caging his shimmering heart. His eyes fluttered open and widened when he felt her hands caressing his cheeks, brushing his insistent tears with a featherlike touch that was, nonetheless, real enough to discard the idea of an illusion.

Odin, she was real! She was truly here, with him, at arm's length. Close enough to touch and hold; to see and smell; to feel and taste…

"Aerith…" his voice was a whispered prayer that carried his pain like a cloak unable to be shed. "I-I am… 'so' sorry," he voiced what he'd repeated insistently to her in realms of dreams and nightmares, the shame of having failed her still burning brightly within his broken mind and wounded soul.

Aerith shushed him quietly, tenderly. His arms shot towards her and, with clumsy urgency, he pulled her to him with well-founded desperation. He buried his tear-streaked face on the crook of her neck, pressing her against him as though she was the lifesaver that Gaia had thrown before he would drown.

She smelled like the fresh flowers, the same ones she'd sold to him when he first met her all those years ago. He relished in her scent, taking it in as though it was the medicine to cure his throbbing heartache. The Cetra just rocked him a bit, whispering soothing nothings into his ear while pressing circles onto his back with soft, healing palms.

Odin, she was real!

And as the enormity of that realization finally sunk into his mind, he vowed that he would never 'ever' let her go.

**-o0o-**

**Sephiroth Crescent **parked the car in the outskirts of the military town of Junon.

"Are we leaving the car here?" Tifa asked, tugging at his hand for him to look at her.

He suppressed a grin at the antic. Yes, he could certainly get used to this show of… affection. He'd never been one to feel the need to touch another human unless strictly necessary and yet, with Tifa it was quite the opposite. It was actually getting harder to refrain from giving into the urge to just touch her, even if it was merely in such an innocent way as this.

The fact that, unthinkingly, he had kissed her hand almost in reaction to her heartfelt words, was proof enough that his discipline was cracking. Of course, he would be lying if he were to confess he didn't crave the contact or wish it were more intimate. Something like the kiss similar to the one they shared not too long ago would do just fine to quench some of his thirst for her, at least for now.

"Junon is loyal to ShinRa," he explained, breaking the enchantment of her eyes and opening his door. "It is possible that someone may recognize me there. I have my cloak in the trunk, so I'm going to put it on just to be safe."

He was about to get out of the vehicle, when he noticed that Tifa had yet to release her hold on his hand. He turned to her questioningly and noticed that she was biting her lower lip in that gesture that told him she was mulling over something. He waited for her to snap out of it, but when she didn't, he decided he might as well bring her back to reality.

"What is it?" he asked, boldly grabbing her chin with his free hand, and tilting her head so that she had no choice but to look at him. If something was troubling her, he would work to fix it.

"Do you think they'll recognize me too?" she enquired.

Sephiroth closed his eyes for a second, trying to compose himself but finding the struggle to quell that primal part that she had, unknowingly, awakened with her lips, harder than before.

He could sometimes swear that those big, wine eyes of her were tempting him to kiss her silly. Did she know how much she affected him? Must she look at him so… well, like that? Hell, just the fact that he was unable to deny her 'anything', and that he tried so very hard to 'please' her in every aspect, spoke volumes about the devotion he had suddenly developed for her.

The most frightening and surprising thing of all, however, was that he didn't even mind it. How out of character for him to be this content to act for the sake of someone else, to be pushed to the point where he, quite willingly, submitted himself to the beck and call of a woman.

_She's not any woman_, he reminded himself, and he still had the clearance of mind to acknowledge the importance of that statement. It was only for Tifa Lockhart –her life, soul, happiness and heart- that he was rendered so very gullible.

The power - yes, he was unashamed to accept it so- she held over him, was not like that Hojo, ShinRa or even Jenova had exercised over him at one moment in time. Tifa's was purer, much more uncontrollable, but –at the same time- felt perfectly natural because, without it being expected or asked, he had 'given' himself wholly to her. As opposed to being forced or convinced that he had to bow to someone else, he had done it on his own accord, without the slightest hesitation.

The General had long since passed the point where he still believed he was keeping her safe because it was his duty, imposed by a higher power as a way to pay for his second chance at both redemption and revenge.

No. Sephiroth would protect her from all harm –no matter how little or great that could be—because the simple idea of her being in pain –be that physical or psychological- made him cringe.

"So?" he felt Tifa tugging his arm again, and he realized he had yet to respond to her question. How queer that he had lost himself in his musings so readily, when in the past –no matter how boring the situation- he would have never been caught so inattentive. Without a doubt, this woman had changed him.

"Perhaps, but it'll be easier for you to blend with the crowd," he stated, but –before her eyes could narrow- he immediately offered, "A scarf should do the trick. Since the weather is cold, it wouldn't be odd for you to cover part of your face with it."

Tifa nodded in acceptance and Sephiroth smiled at her, wondering why she was still not letting go of his hand. Was she perchance afraid that he wouldn't hold her hand again? If that was the case, he would just have to 'reassure' her, wouldn't he?

"I'll be right back," he said, hoping that would be enough of a hint to have her release his hand.

"Okay."

Apparently it wasn't.

"As much as it pains me to let you go, I need my hand," he pointed out in a teasing matter, unable to stop himself. With smug satisfaction, he noted her blush painting her cheeks a crimson shade. He truly enjoyed getting that reaction out of her. So long as 'he' was the one causing it to appear, that is.

In less than five minutes, he had his cloak out and was putting it on. He was about to start buttoning it, when his hands were softly slapped aside by Tifa's. With interest, he wondered what she was planning on doing. He didn't have to wait for long. The barmaids slim, pianist fingers took over the task quite efficiently. It would have been stupid for him to try to stop her, especially since having her touch him made him feel so very good.

Was he uncomfortable or afraid of such a notion -of this newfound feelings that seemed to be in continuous development…? Hardly. Before Tifa, his life had been barely tolerable for the most part. Even with Angeal and Genesis by his side, there were few instances in which he had felt truly and utterly content. Once the barmaid entered his life, however, his existence had turned incredibly pleasant. Hell, he didn't even know such a feeling existed until she came along.

Having her being this close to him, therefore, was nothing if not a gift, and he was not as dense as to refuse such a thing. Of course, at the same time, their closeness was also ruthlessly tearing at his resolve to not have 'his' hands on her.

Shutting his eyes to both relish in her touch and keep his primal part from taking over –as incoherent as that sounded-, he bit back a groan when his mind decided that this was a good time to remind him of their kiss.

Granted, he had thought he knew about kissing before Tifa's little experiment, but why was it that the aftereffects of such an incident where rarely written about? Was it perhaps because in most books, after kissing, the characters remain together as a couple and so there is no need to explain something that perhaps is obvious to the general population?

Opening his eyes, he gazed at her intently as she concentrated on her task. If he were to attempt to describe the feeling that was trying to drown him, he would say he was inebriated. Perhaps this… this addictive 'craving' was truly an aftereffect of their kiss. Since the little minx was a barmaid, he wouldn't put it pass her to come up with a way to get her lips to be as tasty as the Capiroshkas he was so fond of.

"Done," she said, turning to beam at him.

Surely, she must have noticed the intensity of his stare –or perhaps his eyes betrayed some of his innermost musings—because she blushed even deeper, her eyes locking with his.

"Were you aware of the insistent aftereffects of that little experiment of yours?" He asked her, and he was not surprised to hear his voice low and almost husky. Apparently, she wasn't either.

Her tongue flickered out to wet her lips and he bit back another groan.

"A-aftereffects?"

The General's eyes narrowed slightly, "I have been struggling to keep from capturing those lips you insist on biting."

Wine eyes widened for a second but then her lids dropped a bit, giving him a smoldering look.

_You are killing me, woman!_

"Then don't struggle," she whispered it softly but unwaveringly, and he needed no further invitation. Without hesitation, he brought his lips to hers and he kissed her, softly, deeply and for a long time. He brought one arm around her waist when he felt her swoon on her feet and smiled against her mouth with pride.

Her arms encircled his neck, clinging to him as she tried to maintain herself on tiptoes as long as possible, evidently not wishing to break the kiss just yet. Since he too was not keen on doing the same, he pulled her flush against him, and leaned down towards her to make himself more accessible.

One of her tiny hands came to the base of his neck, and he sensed her fingers taking a hold of his hair, raking at his skull with her nails in a most agreeable way. His free hand mimicked hers, only he used his hold to tilt her head in order to deepen the kiss even more.

Sephiroth had been correct in his previous assumption. Her taste was uniquely dainty and, consequently, incredibly addictive. When they at last parted for breath, he was glad to find her blush had yet to recede and she was panting harder than him. Her lips, slightly swollen, just looked all the more ravishing and it took a lot for him to refrain from doing just that.

Still holding her close, he kissed her forehead tenderly twice before speaking. "I am relieved to find the experience doesn't lose its idyllic quality, even when done for a second time. Tell me, Tifa," he took her chin between his fingers, not yet ready to release her from his half-embrace, "does it keep getting better the more you do it?"

She smiled and, it was so contagious, that he grinned lopsidedly in return.

"Why don't you find out?" she said and he chuckled softly at that. He knew what she was doing, and was surprised by her cunning phrasing. The simple question was as much a challenge as a promise, and he was not about to turn it down.

"A most excellent idea," he whispered, guiding her around the car and opening the passenger door for her. "Come on, we need to get going now."

She nodded and sent him a rather mischievous look. Before he could hazard a guess, she had pecked his lips and climbed into the car while laughing softly. He smirked as he was introduced to yet another antic he was unfamiliar with, but which he was positive he would genuinely enjoy.

Walking around the car, he took the scarf he had taken out for her from where he'd forgotten it on the trunk, closed it, and climbed into the driver's seat.

"Here," he said, handing her the white, wool garment. When she took it, the General cooed smoothly, "Put it on, Tifa. We don't want those lips of yours to freeze now, do we?"

She giggled and did as told, her blush still making its presence known.

_Good,_ he preened silently. The ex-SOLDIER really believed that color suited her greatly and he was simply glad to add to her beauty.

Around ten minutes later, Sephiroth drove his viper into the steely city of Junon. Slowly, so as not to earn more looks than the luxurious car already provoked, they made their way towards the docks. Parking the car, they took out their bags from the trunks –well, Sephiroth did—and, scanning his surroundings carefully, he led the way towards the ticket booth. Hopefully, they would be able to find a boat sailing for Costa del Sol.

He turned to the martial artist, wondering if this was a good time to inform her of their destination. However, when his eyes descended upon her, he noticed she was frowning.

"What is it?" he asked, rechecking the area in search for a hidden threat that might have escaped his notice. There was no hostile force nearby that he could see or sense.

Refocusing his attention on the fiery minx, he cocked his head when her scowl deepened. Following the invisible line of her sight, he realized just what the problem was and struggled not to laugh.

_How unexpected… _

A group of young girls had, apparently, been trying to get his attention which had caused Tifa's smile to disappear. What he couldn't understand was why she would possibly feel threatened by them! Surely, she was aware that she was far better looking. Not to mention that his attention was not easily caught, the fact that she'd done it was solid proof of her unique allure.

The swordsman could not help but note how interesting it was that today they seemed to be in constant need to reassure one another… Not finding displeasure in the thought, though -or in his subsequent action- he shifted his bags to his other hand, managing to still keep a hold on his sword and, therefore, leaving his left hand free.

With a careful sweep, he trapped Tifa's hand in his before she could cross her arms in that defensive stand of hers. "Come on, the ticket booth is just ahead," he whispered into her ear, seeing her smile when his 'loving' gesture made the girls audibly groan and quickly lose interest on him.

Satisfied, he was about to push his pace when a familiar voice made him halt completely. "Infinite in mystery is the gift of the goddess. We seek it thus, and take to the sky."

Sephiroth turned to the source of the sound. A man dressed in a dark clock, hood likewise in place, was approaching them. A slim book was held open by one hand while the other one held his sheathed rapier.

With a smile, the man continued to read, "Ripples form on the water's surface…The wandering soul knows no rest."

The General smirked. Leave it to him to perform a dramatic entrance.

"LOVELESS, Act 1," he commented, recalling a time when they had a strikingly similar conversation in the training program.

"You remembered?" the figure asked teasingly.

The General's smirk accentuated, "How could I not when you've beaten it into my head? …Genesis."

Tifa gasped while the poet just chuckled.

"It's been a while, Sephiroth," he conceded, pulling his hood a bit back in order to make his features more visible.

Ocean blue met lifestream green in absolute but companionable silence. At last, the two ex-first class SOLDIERs had reunited, and Sephiroth could not hide the fact that he was welcoming with open arms this unexpected reunion.

**To be Continued…**

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**AN: **If you like, please let me know by **reviewing.** Advices, constructive criticisms, comments, questions, etc. are all welcome. ~Cheers! **PS:** How many of you would like the Turks to be added to this story? (Rufus, Reno, Rude, Tseng and Elena). However, if I do decide on bringing them into the story, I will not give them their own perspective.


	15. SOLDIERs

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any of its characters. I am just burrowing them for a while.

**Author's notes: **Well, I am thrilled by the reviews! Thank you so much. I had originally intended to quicken the pace of the story, however, this chapter ended up delving into the psyche of some characters. In fact, I don't know if it happens to you, but sometimes the characters do things the author hadn't intended them to (this chapter an evident example), which is why this story is a surprise for me too. Anyways, hope you still like it, though! ~Cheers!

**Quick thanks to log-on readers: **GodricGryff, CelestialDeath, Ghedea, Eva Von Dee, CNome, Selendrii, Armored Prayer, ValarSpawn, Kelana-ti, Wolf'srain30, Runamaria Haaku and Kick-It-Aus Style-Mal's.

**Quick replies to anonymous readers: **burntbacon _(no, not praise. Feedback. More so because I am working on my original story and I need the feedback to grow as a writer. Even the praise helps me see what my best scenes are and even why. So, in the end, those act as feedback too)_, butterflyed-animegirl28 _(lol, thanks!), _E_ (Glad you like their chemistry, I will try to keep it but develop it as the story continued), _Pearwhite_ (Thanks! I am always happy to bring joy to an otherwise 'rotten' week! ;p), _Sephiroth_Owa13 _(Yes, some of the evil guys names are Angel's names, in fact. And it was following the idea of the three first classes names –minus Zack, thanks for that also, btw. Glad you are liking it so far and thanks for the info about the buster sword, I haven't seen the latest version of AC)._

Shanrock_ (Lol, glad you are enjoying it so far. Indeed, hope the reunion of all AVALANCHE meets the expectation of my readers ;p), _Sephysephysepthiroth_(Nice penname, lol. Glad you are enjoying this so far. Indeed, Seph is more developed because he is the main character and has more scenes dedicated to him, whereas Genesis doesn't. However, I hope this chapter changes that. About Vincent, yes. I am taking into consideration his strength –especially Chaos, but I will be deviating a bit from Dirge since I never finished playing it. Anyways, thanks!)_ and fan _(Thanks! Glad you are liking Sephy and his relationship with Teef so far!)_

**Typos pointed out by: **_Ex Oxide_

**Enjoy** and don't forget to **review**!

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"_The past… is the weapon morality wields against us when we forget who we are."_

_-John Smith (The Death Zone)-_

"**One Winged Angels"**

By: FenixPhoenix

**Chapter 15: "SOLDIERs"**

**Vincent** **Valentine **sat before the fire of Cosmo Canyon deep in thought. Though it was around midday, the bonfire raged with the purpose of providing some warmth to the otherwise crisp atmosphere.

Ever since he bought Nanaki back to his people to be tended, he stayed nearby, wondering just what the hell was going on. Or rather, he pondered upon what was going to happen with wary anxiousness.

When the image of their two opponents blinked into the forefront of his mind, he shuddered. The chill that ran down his spine, though, had nothing to do with the weather. It was, instead, a physical reaction to the drawing realization that something big was coming, something dangerous in a world-wide scale.

Mako infused people always bode bad news. The fact that Nanaki was attacked by an unknown warrior with a superb level of skill 'and' displaying the signs of having undergone extreme mako showers, made the wheels of his Turk mind spin rapidly. Was the tiger attacked because he was part of AVALANCHE? Or was that simply one of the reasons? Or none at all…?

He frowned when he recalled what little information their young attacker had provided before being interrupted by the magic witch.

"_I came for mother's cells. Do not interfere." _The raspy voice echoed in his head, making his heart throb with the heavy threat that hung on that short statement. Mother's cells… _Jenova_. How bothersome, for it was this entity what had started it all -the fall of ShinRa and the plight of Gaia.

Hojo's experimentations with these alien cells had created the monster that –three years ago- had almost destroyed the planet. It was also, these cells –wrongly believed to belong to the Cetra people- what had killed Lucrecia and pushed him, Vincent Valentine, into becoming the mad scientist's guinea pig.

The gunslinger grimaced as images of his past flooded his mind with all its cruel and gruesome detail. The tests, the surgeries he'd been subjected to had been nightmarishly agonizing. He remembered every incision, every bone broken and ever limb maimed with ghastly exactitude. His body had been shattered and reconstructed in order to accommodate the uncanny transformations. The scars left behind showed a jigsaw puzzle of skin and bone, marking the extensive change he'd undergone.

In fact, if he concentrated hard enough, Vincent could even feel the reminiscence of that hot, razor-sharp pain. If he closed his eyes for long enough, he could still see Hojo's maniac gaze and the cruel smirk upon those thin lips that were more used to scorn than smiles. And yet… unbidden, the nostalgia would sometimes flood him with equal intensity, shaking him to the very bone. How queer that something that produced so much pain, had also given him, once upon a time, so much pleasure.

_ShinRa_… It was his home and his tomb, his dream and his nightmare, his hope for a better life and his despair at losing it. And still, as insane as it sounded, a large part of him 'missed' it.

Deciding not to fight it this time, he allowed his mind to play the memories he still had of his life before Hojo and Lucrecia. His life back when his group was his family, the company his safe heaven, and his sole goal was to accomplish his mission with a paragon performance.

After a while of wandering down memory lane, his train of thought switched from specific events to more general ones. With mixed feelings, Vincent recalled the constant rivalry between his division –the Turks—and that of SOLDIER.

Whereas the Turks' dedication -loyalty to ShinRa surpassed that of any other division, SOLDIER surpassed them all in brute strength. However, whereas SOLDIER was the image broadcasted around for the public, the Turks were kept shadowed in mystery and left in the background where no questions would be asked.

They each had a purpose of existence, each was imperative to the company, and because of this -though contrastingly different- they were still interdependent.

Those in SOLDIER followed the first class' example, aiming to become heroes, moved by the prospect of fame. The Turks, for their part, followed ShinRa's high executives, taking orders without asking questions, all for the sake of acquiring respect and, ultimately, protection.

Unlike SOLDIERs, those who wanted to be Turks did not enlist. No, they were _recruited_ based upon a number of factors that were too dark for ShinRa to showcase as they did with their precious SOLDIERs and Troopers. Those who became Turks were people who had been broken by a past filled with pain, violence and bitterness. ShinRa, by way of the Turks, 'mended' these people, giving them a sense of belonging that had been missing in their lives. (1) They did it so successfully, that even him, Vincent Valentine, had fallen into their trap –giving his all for the company that ultimately allowed Hojo to do as he pleased with him.

It was with potent loathing –most of it directed at himself-, that he'd realized he was expendable, no matter how skillful and loyal he'd been. Yet, even when pungent about his past, he would be lying if he were to declare he did not _miss_ that sense of 'belonging'. Actually, this was the reason why he'd tagged along AVALANCHE to begin with, hadn't he? And, at the same time, this was also the reason he'd hesitated to join them. Why else would he have been so wary of Cloud and his group if not for the fact that he had been betrayed before?

Still, at least he had been able to use the knowledge and strength he'd gathered with the Turks to redeem himself. To right as many wrongs as he could in an effort to shed –or at least lower- the guilt he'd been dragging around for his past mistakes. Because, yes, he'd sinned before Lucrecia. He'd done it a lot.

Perhaps what Hojo did to him was punishment for those sins? A heavenly justice performed through the hands of mortals…?

SOLDIER… How ironic that he'd accepted the leadership of one belonging to their ranks, a third-class, yes, but a SOLDIER no less. Why? Well, because his most shameful sins, he'd committed _against_ them and _for_ them.

Granted, it was believed that SOLDIERs were not recruited, but that they, on their own volition, came to enlist. But like with almost every rule out there, there were exceptions, especially when it came to ShinRa. If the company's executives found someone who showed promise to withstand mako radiation, then the Turks were sent to 'convince' him to join the division. They called it 'being recruited', but it was nothing short of kidnapping because most times the offer to join was turned down.

Of course, Vincent had soon realized that rarely did those who had been brought to ShinRa by force were able to leave the facilities. Instead, as he had later learned, they were experimented upon, subjected to so much mako that their bodies were poisoned and consequently, the lucky ones, ended up dying.

Yes, the _lucky_ ones. The unlucky ones –those poor bastards who had been able to survive the mako poisoning?- were then injected with Jenova cells, becoming part of Project J. In most cases, the strain of the body was too much and the alien cells began to eliminate their own human ones, changing their genetic code until they were nothing but abominations. Monsters who, because of their volatile nature, were caged in tanks and left inside mako reactors, while the scientists researched a way to be able to control them.

Those whose bodies managed to withstand both things without an outward change, were giving the status of second or first class SOLDIERs. Their bodies were, by then, weapons capable of wielding amazing power, and ShinRa was quick to use them for their bloody purposes. Wutai's war was a fine example.

"You seem… perturbed, Vincent Valentine," a gentle voice stated, bringing him back to reality.

The gunslinger turned to the old figure, who was in the process of sitting beside him. His gray hair whipped as hands of wind played with it, while his dark, knowing eyes bore into his crimson orbs.

"Elder Hargo," he greeted politely, feeling the man's invisible cloak of wisdom brushing against him.

After Bugenhagen's death, Elders Bugah and Hargo had stepped up to lead Cosmo Canyon's tribe. They were considered the wisest men in regards to the planet and, subsequently, the lifestream. It was also here, after all, where the first AVALANCHE had been founded for the sole purpose of protecting Gaia. Much as they, the last AVALANCHE group, had done when they'd fought and subdued Sephiroth Crescent.

"You are worried about those who attack our Nanaki?" Though phrased like a question, it was much more like a statement. One that Vincent could not deny. So, with a nod, he didn't. "A wave of inevitable change is coming," the elder said, his gaze moving to the sky and his voice deep with awareness. The man, unknowingly, held Vincent's undivided attention. "The planet is preparing to fight a threat that looms nearby, waiting for the time to strike."

Every muscle in his body tensed at the prophecy. These were the most devoted humans to the Planet. If Hargo said a change was coming, then it was definitely coming.

"So… Jenova is back," Vincent concluded, leaning back on his arms and gazing likewise at the vast blue sky.

Perhaps it was about time to gather AVALANCHE again? Suddenly, a mechanical sound, rising in volume, interrupted his musings. His dark brows met when, above, he noted a helicopter coming their way.

"And so it begins," Elder Hargo mumbled, sighed and stood up. Turning to the gunslinger, he said, "I will send Nanaki to you."

Vincent nodded, also regaining his feet. His placid expression switched to a grim one when he read the text on the side of the helicopter. For a second there, he had believed it was a WRO aircraft. How wrong of him. The black bird belonged to none other than to ShinRa's corporation, specifically to the Turks.

_Turks have always and will always be the bearers of bad news,_ he heard a part of him state, and knew he was right. Perhaps the wave of change had already begun…

**-o0o-**

**Genesis** **Rhapsodos **couldn't help but stare in open wonderment. Here was Sephiroth Crescent, the most unemotional SOLDIER he had _ever_ met, hand-in-hand with a lovely brunette. Not only that, but he seemed quite unperturbed by the human contact, by this –how should he put it?- evident show of affection!

Of course, it was so out of character that Genesis had to double check –by conspicuously pinching his skin- if he was dreaming. Since that actually hurt, it was safe to assume he wasn't.

_How interesting…,_ he thought with a small smile. Of course, what better way to find out just how much ShinRa's revered 'hero' had changed if not by asking!

"Well, 'hero'," he spoke the title with a bit of envy mixed with a tint of mock and sprinkled with actual nostalgia, "aren't you going to introduce me to the lovely lady you seemed to be guiding around the place?" he finished cheerfully.

Bright blue eyes swept Tifa –from the crown of her head to the sole of her shoes—unhurriedly and appreciatively, while he stuck his book into the back pocket of his pants, flapping his cloak in the process.

Genesis had to give it to the General, he certainly hadn't lost his eye for quality.

"This is Tifa Lockhart," Sephiroth introduced curtly, pulling her slightly closer to him. It was an instinctive -and, yes, rather evident - reaction to the once over Genesis had given her. And it was, therefore, another oddity to add to the General's list of alterations.

_Yours, huh?_ He thought playfully before continuing with his plan. "I see, well it's a pleasure to meet you, Miss. Lockhart," he said, taking her free hand undauntedly and kissing the back of her palm.

"L-likewise," the female replied, the blush signaling that she was embarrassed by the gesture, possibly even unused to it. Genesis, though, found this strange, considering she should have been used to being showered with praise. After all, that beauty of hers could not come without suitors…

More fascinating that the lovely creature he'd just met, however, was how Sephiroth's eyes narrowed a fraction. It was an almost imperceptible reaction, but –like before- it was a reaction nonetheless.

_Oh, so you've really grown a heart since our parting, Sephiroth? Well, forgive me if I find that hard to believe…_

But the possibility, though strange, was there –the proof of it was blushingly staring him right in the face. And, oh, the challenge to delve into this rare occurrence was too tempting to ignore! If ShinRa's hero had really grown a heart, then naturally, it couldn't hurt to be made certain. After all, hadn't ShinRa sternly instructed their SOLDIERs never to assume anything? Quite the contrary, they taught them to always back their theories with solid facts.

So, Genesis would merely follow what he'd learned as a rule, and further search for _facts_. And since he still haven't gotten over the fact that Sephiroth had basically ignored him when he'd asked for his help, the poet decided he had earned the right to have some 'fun' while gathering information.

"Oh, how very rude of me!" the redheaded announced dramatically. "I see you have your hands busy, Sephiroth. I can take Tifa's hand for you, if you like."

The older male's lips quirked in an amused smirk that still managed to look quite menacing, "Careful, Genesis, she's tougher than she looks."

The poet's eyebrows arched upward. He was so taken aback, that he was unable hide it. Turning to the woman, he found her blushing furiously at the General's compliment but sporting a look of surprise –which he guessed- was similar to his own.

How good a fighter must this girl be to earn such words of praise from someone who –Genesis had strongly believed- didn't have it in his genetic code to give compliments! If Sephiroth was willing to pay his respects to this woman, then she was certainly someone to behold. Granted, the mere fact that he was so protective of her, spoke volumes about the fact that he held her in high regards… but still, to state it out loud…

_Well, I'll be damn, you 'have' changed, Sephiroth Crescent! Maybe you've changed as much –or even more, than I… _

This side of his 'casually stated' comment, however, was not the only thing that had intrigued the poet. It was also that carefully chosen _warning, _what hinted that Sephiroth had really acquired –and possibly even given- his heart. In any case, that admonition was his way of marking his territory, of warning the poet to stay away from her -else he should find himself at the receiving end of his masamune.

And given how the man had practically sent him on his merry way to degradation the last he'd seen him, it would be wiser to play it safe. Plus, there was that _small_ fact that Minerva had sent him to 'help' Sephiroth, not to 'antagonize' him –much as he was tempted to do the latter.

_I think I'll have to remember that more often,_ the poet decided, knowing that –even after all his supposedly acquired wisdom- he was still having trouble keeping the envy he felt at bay –let alone fighting it.

Oh! …But may Ifrit's flame consume him, old habits die hard! Could anyone blame him if he continued to entertain thoughts of rivalry, when for more than half of his life, Genesis had struggled to step out of Sephiroth's shadow? When most of his free time, he'd dedicated to either finding or devising new -and admittedly some of them even petty- challenges for them to compete on?

It was precisely because of all these reasons, that his way of thinking about Sephiroth –as a goal to surpass, a rival to challenge, a dream to attain—was not that easily destroyed, discarded or even disregarded! So, yes. Genesis was aware that this he was currently experiencing was probably childishly immature of him, but was it fair that the General had gotten a girl –and a damn good-looking one at that—before him?

Hell, the man's emotions –or their equivalent in Sephiroth's odd psyche- had been rough and undeveloped in the heart's department. If there had been one thing the poet had been better at, and proudly so, was at _understanding_ people and their _emotions. _

Empathizing, sympathizing, comprehending… had all been Genesis expertise! Granted, he hadn't –and possibly never would—understand Sephiroth. But hell, he'd hardly considered the man a human, given that his emotional spectrum was as diverse as a behemoth's!

But what else could he have possibly expected from a man that had been born _for_ ShinRa? A man who had been shaped –ever since he was an infant—to meet every expectation his bastard of a father –if he could even be considered that- had? Unlike him and Angeal, he hadn't been given at least a 'normal' childhood with caring parents –no matter how fake that love had actually been—and a warm home to be sheltered in.

No. Sephiroth had been a SOLDIER since birth. He'd eaten, dreamt and breathed SOLDIER. While Genesis and Angeal were playing in the Banora threes of his village, hanging off the branches like inane monkeys, Sephiroth had been training, fighting, surviving…

_But he left me to die,_ a voice reminded sternly, unwilling to accept the excuses he himself was providing.

Okay, so maybe Sephiroth was undeveloped in other areas apart from love and 'loyalty'. However, 'how to acquire and keep friends' was not included in the training program of SOLDIER and therefore, the alien concept of 'friendship' was not really his _forte_.

"By the way, how did you find us, Genesis?" the General asked, his tone back to his regular business-like quality with every emotional response brushed aside... for now.

Now, this was the Sephiroth he remembered. So, glad for the interruption of his chaotic and incoherent musings –he was not really in the mood to start bantering with his own conscience—he considered how best to answer the question. In the end, honesty won over an elaborate lie.

"It was Fate!" The poet proclaimed theatrically, opening his arms as though to embrace the fitting concept. He also needed to dissipate the tension that had suddenly settled between them. Even someone as courageous and strong as him, was not stupid enough to brush against the General the wrong way… too many times.

After all, everyone had a limit and Sephiroth was no exception. If pressed for too long and too hard, he 'could' _snap_. Hell, he knew this from experience. Hadn't he tested Sephiroth's patience too far during the training program, garnering the wound that started his degradation to begin with?

No, he was stubborn, but not stupid. Genesis would have to be careful around him –especially with his teasing. However, it was important to state, that said realization by no means meant that he would stop. How could he, when this was _way_ too entertaining not to exploit!

"So… it was a mere coincidence, huh?" Sephiroth concluded, the tone mildly condescending.

Genesis rolled his eyes, "Must you always disregard destiny so readily?"

The older male raised a perfect eyebrow in response, before turning around to resume the task the redheaded's appearance had interrupted.

"Come on," the General instructed, walking away and pulling Tifa with him. The poet was, thus, left with no other choice but to follow, even when knowing he had been unashamedly ignored. Perhaps Sephiroth hadn't changed all that much…

When they reached the ticket booth, Genesis took the opportunity to study the young woman the former SOLDIER seemed so fond off. She had to have something apart from her beauty that was special, right?

As soon as he posed his eyes on her, Genesis noted that the pretty brunette looked concerned, ever since he'd approached them actually. He wondered if it had to do with his presence, which was the most likely theory he could think of.

Suppose she didn't trust him?

_No, that's not it_, he realized when he saw her sparing a worried look in Sephiroth's direction. If she had been suspicious of him, wouldn't she be sending _him_ those anxious looks –or distrusting ones at any rate? As it was, she seemed solely concerned about something that had to do with the older male.

He cocked his head to one side and scratched his chin as he pondered this. Why would she be worried _for_ or _about_ someone like Sephiroth? Surely, if it was an outside threat she feared would harm him, he would successfully deal with it. He was, after all –as much as it pained him to admit it- ShinRa's strongest, the uncontested number one first class! Sephiroth's excellent training in combination with his unmatched skill had always rendered him –perhaps not invincible, but pretty damn close. And Genesis could not even conceive the idea of this changing. Not now, not ever.

_Still, I was sent to his aid,_ a part of him stated, making the poet frown as he considered this. Indeed, why was that? Sparing a glance at the other male, he noticed he had just finished the transaction that had stolen his attention. Turning to him and Tifa, he presented three tickets for Costa del Sol.

"There was only one room available with two beds, so that'll have to do," he explained, handing Genesis his ticket but holding onto Tifa's. "The ship is leaving in half an hour, so I suggest we board it now."

The poet nodded and, before he could ask the gloomy woman what was worrying her –in hopes that he would somehow be able to put her mind at ease- he got his answer.

_Oh, so that's why,_ he chuckled softly to himself as he watched the scene unfold before him.

Retrieving their things from where he'd left them on the floor, Sephiroth took Tifa's hand again. Just as he did that, her worry seemed to vanish altogether, leaving on its wake a beaming and relieved smile. So she was afraid that maybe the General would stop acting the way he had with her because of his presence?

Genesis shook his head slightly. How little did this girl know 'him'! Granted, he was still surprised by how the General was acting. However, he'd known Sephiroth for long enough to recognize that he was not one to take into consideration what other may think of his actions. So, if the swordsman wanted to do something, he just did it, no hesitation whatsoever.

It drew on him just then, that he had yet to find out _what_ was going on. Resolving to change that, he proceeded to enquire -more so, since he had the strong impression that it had something to do with the woman who had attacked him not too long ago.

"So, pray tell, why have I been sent to your aid, Sephiroth?" initiated Genesis, falling into step with them. "Does it have to do with whatever destroyed Midgar, by chance?"

Sephiroth frowned, stopped abruptly and looked him in the eye as though he'd just asked something extremely absurd. Genesis knew when he was being read, and that was definitely what the man was doing. Not wishing to start a web of suspicion between them by acting defensive, he allowed him to see his question had been frank –no ulterior motive apart from the one openly stated.

"You really don't know?" his voice was smooth and unwavering, yet he seemed far from being at ease.

Indeed. It was odd, yet undeniable. Though not very evident, Sephiroth Crescent was hesitant and –by the strain of his muscles- awfully tensed, much more than Genesis had _ever_ seen him. And that was saying a lot….

A tingle of fear invaded him, rendering him a bit edgy. Did Sephiroth have something to do with whatever catastrophe befell the city? Unsure, he pondered upon this a bit and then…

"Impossible…!" the poet uttered aghast, his eyes never leaving the verdant ones that were staring back at him unblinkingly. "Come on! Even _you_ don't have the power to wreck such devastation!"

Sephiroth's lips pressed together and a cloak of gloom seemed to envelope the formidable warrior. It was so…very unbefitting! And, therefore, it was quite disturbing to see –let alone accept!

"I'll explain it all inside. Let's go," Sephiroth resolved with a tone so firm that it allowed no arguments. Not that Genesis was planning on making any.

So with that, they boarded the ship in absolute, almost oppressive silence.

**-o0o-**

**Barret Wallace **was munching on his sandwich peacefully. Sitting with him at the table were Reeve and Yuffie, both barely touching their food and unnaturally quiet. Well, at least it was an odd occurrence for the latter one.

Conspicuously stealing glances at them, he noticed that while the ex-spy was lost in that damn mind of him, the ninja -interestingly enough—was stealing furtive glances at him.

_The hell's happenin'!_ He wondered concerned, for Reeve's dejected aura plus Yuffie's anxious disposition were grating on his already jittery nerves.

Barret hated, he absolutely _hated_, to be kept in the dark. And that was, unfortunately, exactly how he was feeling.

_But not for fuckin' long, I won't. _His eyes narrowed and, much as it pained him, he put the sandwich down on his plate. He was going to find out just what the hell was happening, and he was going to do it now!

"Dammit! Somethin' happened between the two of ya or somethin'? Why the fuck are yo' s'dingy?" he said, focusing on a flabbergasted Reeve. Then, before he could answer, he zeroed on his other target, "An' why do yo' keep lookin' at the spy. Yo' like'im or somethin'? …Eh, brat?"

Barret's meeting eyebrows rose in confusion when he noticed the ninja flinching and, immediately after that, blushing furiously. Nooooo… he couldn't have gotten that right, could he?

"N-no!" she stuttered, giving her napkin a death grip that colored her knuckles white. Probably realizing how truly unconvincing that sounded, she tried to amend, "I mean, GAWD! What are you blabbing about, old man!"

Both males had apparently been so focused on Yuffie, that none had noticed when Rie had stepped inside until she'd curved forward over Reeve's shoulder. A curious mismatched gaze locked with the dark, nervous one of the Wutaian. In silence, the scientist continued to study the fidgeting ninja so intensely, that even Barret felt a _bit_ bad for putting her in the spotlight.

"Rie wh-" Reeve began, but was interrupted by said girl.

"You are blushing, which indicates that whatever Barret said has embarrassed you, therefore some of it must be true," she concluded in an as-a-matter-of-fact tone.

"N-no! Did you hit your head, science geek?" Yuffie responded, attempting –in vain- to stir the attention away from her or, at the very least, lighten the awkward mood.

"Unlike your mind, your body can't lie," Rie pointed out. "A confused state of mind acts upon the sympathetic nervous system. From there, the vasodilators are stimulated which causes the peripheral capillaries to expand. As a result, more blood flows to the surface of your skin, resulting in the reddening of the face and neck. (2) This produces what we refer to as a 'blush', which further thwarts the mind's ability to function to its fullest capacity." Rie paused as she considered something. A second later, she placed a hand on Yuffie's chest casually –right above the spot where her heart lay.

"Ah! What are you doing!" the ninja backed away so fast, that she toppled over, with chair and all.

"Your heart is beating rapidly, that is another indi-"

"You better stop right there!" Yuffie was on her feet, her face crimson and her eyes sparkling with mortification and anger –the latter much more evident. "That is… unless you want to find all your precious equipment missing from your science lair by the morrow!"

Rie gasped, and it was hard for Barret to decide whether it was a sarcastic or a dramatic reaction. Perhaps a little bit of both? Well, it was hard to tell since he could barely understand anything that came out of this particular female's mouth.

Even at the expense of Yuffie, though, the former AVALANCHER could not deny the fact that he was finding all of this very entertaining. Sure, he didn't understand it all, but he got the general picture. And, of course, this event was actually helping to alleviate some of his constant anxiousness over his missing friend.

_Teef…_ his mind echo and, just like that, his pain returned.

"Settle down, girls!" Reeve's voice piped in as the man stood between them, placating them with a hard look.

Interesting how that look was, for the first time, working on the brat.

Switching his full attention to his girl –well, Barret considered her so-, the ex-spy asked, "You've found something, Rie?"

The scientists nodded and handed him the thin folder she was holding. Reeve took it and flipped it open without ceremony, tiredness showing in his dejected figure.

"W-what is it?" Yuffie asked when they noticed Reeve's eyes widening and his shoulders tensing.

"You recalled the comb we found within the debris of the destroyed apartment?" Rie began. When they nodded in unison, she continued, "There were hairs in it and we managed to test it for DNA."

Yuffie was quick to take a seat when Reeve practically crashed on his, his face ghostly pale.

"An'?" Barret pressed, feeling his stomach queasy all of a sudden.

"Two individuals used that comb," Rie continued, since she was the only one seemingly unperturbed. "One was your friend, Tifa Lockhart."

"An' the other?" Barret was not liking where this was going.

"Sephiroth…," whispered Reeve, his wide eyes locking with his and sharing his fright.

"No…," Yuffie gasped.

"No, that is actually correct," Rie insisted, taking the female's negative literary. "The other strands of hair belonged to Sephiroth Crescent, first-class SOLDIER who –according to ShinRa—had been missing in action."

Barret leaned forward on his elbows, forcefully keeping his stomach from pushing his lunch back out.

_Teef…_ What did this mean? What could that monster be doing to her! Oh, Shiva, he should have been there! He should have convinced her to come with him!

"We've got to find her, Reeve!" Barret demanded hoarsely, a lump of pain and fear obstructing his vocals. _We haveta find'er before it's too late…_

**To be continued…**

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**Story's Notes:**

(1) Vincent's past: I am taking a creative license here since I did not finish playing Dirge of Cerberus (and I think his Dad is actually mentioned). Though I will still be using some of the info from the game, I will be inventing some of Vinny's past and most of the Turks and SOLDIER's rules too (as you may have noticed). So… yeah…

(2) Information about 'why do we blush' taken from essortament(.)com

**AN: **Please don't forget to click on the button below and **review**! Feedback makes me happy! So, spread the happiness!


	16. Guilt and Trust

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any of its characters. I am just burrowing them for a while.

**Author's notes: **So, I had a _terrible_ week. Would you guys believe me if I told you I _crashed_ my younger brother's truck into my older brother's truck purely by accident?! Yeap, it wasn't pretty. Anyways, I don't know why it took me longer to find the inspiration to write this chapter. So, considering how difficult it was to write, I hope you guys like it!

**Quick thanks to logged-on readers: **_Ghedea, CNome, GodricGryff, Kairi-loves-Sushi, Selendrii, TroubledFred, Kick-It-Aus Style-Mal's, xxFranceExx, Wolf'srain30, LoveableDimples16, Winter Banshee, Runamaria Haaku_ and _butterfly-aquamaiden28._

**Quick replies to anonymous readers: **Sephiroth_Owa13 _(Thank you so much! You made my day, lol. I am glad you like the character's background and monologues. Though it was mostly a character development chapter, I'm glad you liked it. Hope you like this too!),_ pearlwhite _(Thanks! Hopefully I'll soon make you a Reeve fan! There are few of us out there, lol. Still, glad you like Genesis development so far!)_ and Galiriol_ (Don't worry, I'm just glad you are still reading this. Glad you like Genesis and hope you especially enjoy this chapter… You'll understand why when you read it). _

**Special thanks: **to _Winter Banshee_ for finding me in Deviantart and supporting me there too. I enjoyed our little chat, Bibi.

**Edited by:** -- Hopefully, Res will do it when she comes back from her trip! So, I apologize for the errors you may find.

**~Enjoy** and don't forget to **review**!

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"_The best way to destroy an enemy is to make him a friend."_

_-Abraham Lincon (16__th__ US President)-_

"**One Winged Angels"**

By: FenixPhoenix

**Chapter 16: "Guilt and Trust"**

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**Vincent Valentine **knew something was definitely wrong the moment Reno stepped out of the helicopter. Granted, his knowledge about the redheaded was limited, but one thing that had always been clear, was that he was a laidback individual who smiled at _everyone_ and _everything_ that moved.

Thus, the fact that at present the man's expression was dismal was a perturbing sight to behold. For yes, the lips he'd erroneously believed were carved into a perpetual smile, were now pressed into a thin line of scorn. And additionally, his usually bright eyes were stripped of merriment, leaving them dull and hollow.

As though to reinforce the gunslinger's worries, when Rude joined his partner, he noticed he was likewise upset. Even with the dark glasses hiding his eyes, the tension of his jaw and the way his head was tilted slightly downwards, spoke volumes.

Vincent's eyes narrowed as he tried to explain this unusual phenomenon. Could the Turks be in some kind of trouble and came to ask for their help? Or would the news they were about to deliver likewise affect his and Nanaki's demeanors?

Could it have something to do with the boy that attacked them? Had some other AVALANCHE member been assaulted? …Cloud perchance?

As the Turks began to close the distance between them, Nanaki arrived, positioning himself to the right of Vincent.

"What's going on?" asked the tiger, his eyes intent on the two dejected figures approaching. "What's wrong with them?"

The gunslinger crossed his arms, trying to quell the sudden anxiousness that had invaded him from the moment the helicopter had come into view. "I don't know, but we're about to find out."

Guardedly, Valentine noticed Reno digging his hands into his pockets when they reached them. His lips quirked into a pale imitation of the smile he just didn't seem able pull off this time.

"Vincent, Red—err… Nanaki," he greeted, while Rude just nodded curtly in their direction.

"Why are you here?" Vincent figured he might as well dive straight to the point. There was no use for mindless chatter. Whatever news they brought, they would take head on.

The redheaded switched his weight from one foot to the other. It was a nervous gesture that was unbefitting in someone so naturally cocky. His whole body language was expressing his discomfort rather noticeably.

This was particularly odd considering Turks were given special training in concealing such visual signs of emotions. The fact that Reno was not even trying to put on his stoic mask, meant that he wanted them to _know_ something was wrong. Something that would most probably affect them too in one way or another.

Turning his attention to the bald Turk, he noticed that Rude, for his part, simply folded his arms and tilted his head lower, until his chin was practically touching his chest. It was another evident display of regret, shame or plain impotence that only added to Vincent's worries.

The gunslinger opened his mouth and then closed it again, completely at a loss as to how to breach the ginger subject. After a few noiseless seconds, he didn't have to.

"We've got some bad news," Reno admitted with a sigh, the ghostly smile slipping completely off his face, leaving on its wake troubled lines of more than one sleepless night.

Right then, without the need of spelling it out, Vincent Valentine knew someone had been attacked. Someone from AVALANCHE to be exact. It didn't take a genius to make the connection.

"Who?" he asked, his voice was collected, even when inside he was holding his breath and tensing like a bow.

Reno's jaw clenched and his eyes trailed to the side, gazing at the fire of Cosmo Canyon as though he'd just found something interesting within its dancing colors. In the depth of his blue eyes, however, flickered the flame of anger mingling with a sense of regret.

"Someone got attacked. Was it… Cloud?" the gunslinger instigated, feeling Nanaki's concerned eyes upon him.

It would obviously make the most sense if that was the case. After all, the one who attacked them, Oriel, wanted the tiger's cells. Therefore it was safe to assume Cloud would most probably become a target –if he wasn't already.

"No." This time it was Rude who spoke, "It was Lo…," his voice failed him just then and he seemed aggravated by that fact. He cleared his throat, raised his head and tried again, "Tifa Lockhart got attacked."

Instinctively, Vincent gave a step back as though someone had punched him squarely on the face. His crimson eyes widened with horror and he could feel his blood turning to ice, leaving trails of tingling ants underneath his skin as it rushed through his throbbing veins.

_No, not her. Shiva, not her!_ He found himself pleading silently, as he was ruthlessly reminded by his subconscious of the fact that he was supposed to have gone to visit her close to a month _ago_.

When Cloud had left her with nothing but an excuse written in a piece of paper, he'd been the first she'd called. Why? Well, he would never know. Perhaps she figured he would understand her the most? Or maybe because he wasn't as close to Cloud, she thought he would be able to offer her support without feeling as though he was betraying the swordsman?

Whatever the case, she'd called him. She'd silently asked for _his_ help, unbecomingly pushing Vincent into promising he would visit her soon.

However, part of him had been reluctant to do so. How was he supposed to comfort someone? It was simply not in his nature, or if it was, it had been erased the moment Hojo had trapped monstrous entities within his body.

Never mind that something of the sort --being betrayed when Lucrecia left him for Hojo, that is-- had happened to him, he was simply not apt to help someone deal with heartache when he, himself, was still unable to do so.

The truth was, when she'd called him and told him of what happen, Vincent hadn't the slightest clue of what to say or what to do! So he'd said the only thing that would bring her some comfort –temporal as that may be—and he'd promised he would personally visit her.

Only later did he realize he had made a promise he could _not_ easily keep. Instead of putting his own cowardice aside to be there for someone who had always been there for him, he'd made up excuses.

It was shameful, yes, but nevertheless true. Vincent kept himself busy so that he wouldn't go to her until 'he' was ready. And he successfully kept up that pretense of not having time to spare due to his 'demanding' schedule, until a few days ago. He'd been on his way to her when he'd thought of stopping by to visit Nanaki, selfishly hoping that he would join him in his quest to 'cheer' Tifa up.

Only now they wouldn't be able to do that! Had he just been there as he'd promised, she would still be—

_Wait! They didn't say she's—No. She isn't—she's fine!_ He told himself firmly, willing himself to honestly believe that small comfort, so as to remain sane.

Logic.

He needed to think logically, to regard this situation from an objective point of view and from a distance. Well, if _that _–Tifa being…well, _that_-- had been the case, the Turks would have said as much, right?

But the mere fact that they weren't masking their own emotions, was sufficient information to found his worries.

Of course, it was to be expected that they would feel upset considering that, from all of AVALANCHE, Tifa was probably the closest to them. Even when she'd been almost executed by orders of ShinRa's executives, she had never treated them ill and she'd probably won their respect for that.

Still, for veteran Turks to display such worry for an _outsider_ was startling.

"Where is she?" Vincent finally had the guts to enquire, regaining part of his lost composure.

"That's the problem right there," Reno explained bitterly, his eyes locking with theirs. "We don't know where she's at."

"Tifa was caught by whoever attacked her?" Nanaki asked, forcibly pulling himself out of his stunned state.

Rude shook his head, "We don't know much ourselves. We were asked to pick you up before meeting with Reeve Tuesti back in Edge. He must know something big is happening if he is allowing _us_ to help."

"So you offered your aid?" Vincent phrased in a way that they'd understand his underlying question. _What's in it for you._

Reno's eyes glared not dagger, but swords at him. "Since so few of you guys are actually around her bar –especially when she needs you-- lemme enlighten you on somethin'," he gave a step forward menacingly and drove his point home without mercy, "We're her _friends_. We visit her every time we have a break, and actually provide support when she _needs_ it."

Valentine went on the defensive and riposted, "Then how come you weren't there when she was in _need_ of your support, Turk?"

The redheaded reached for his weapon, Vincent doing the same as animosity –the anger, no, the self-loathing that each was trying to keep in—exploded.

Before things could get messy, however, Rude stepped between them, taking his shades off, to pin them in place with a penetrating glare.

"Cool down," he ordered, his tone allowing no arguments. "We're all on the same side, on Tifa's side!" When weapons were lowered, he answered the question the former Turk had asked earlier, "Unfortunately, we were occupied with cleaning some of the mess the pre-meteor ShinRa left behind when Seventh Heaven got attacked. Otherwise, I assure you, we would have all been there –President Rufus included."

Vincent nodded in rueful acceptance and Reno did the same, though with much more reluctance.

Cooling down, the gunslinger realized there was no use in worrying just yet, nor was it a good idea to start fights within their ranks. They all needed to assess the situation with a clear head. The simple thought of having the rest of AVALANCHE working on this, also helped in putting him somewhat at ease.

"Then, let's go. We shouldn't waste any more time," the gunslinger advised, giving the worried-looking tiger a pat on the head for what he hoped was reassurance.

Everyone agreeing, they boarded the helicopter once Nanaki had told his mate where he was going. Naturally, he refused to have her get involved and, after a brief but heated exchange of snarls, she had thankfully relented.

As soon as they were soaring through the sky, Vincent noticed that they were heading in the wrong direction and promptly voiced his discovery.

"We're picking up one more person," Rude stated, as he piloted the craft quite skillfully through the dimming atmosphere. Reno just snorted and mumbled something about chocobos, before falling into sullen silence.

When Vincent recognized they were heading to the Forgotten Capital, he immediately knew who they were picking up.

_Cloud… we failed her both._ He lamented, unable –much as he wanted to-- to blame it all on the blond warrior. Yes. The two of them had failed her at different times but in the same way.

None had been there for Tifa when she _needed_ them.

For that, he would forever be ashamed.

**-o0o-**

**Sephiroth Crescent** leaned back on his chair. Propping his elbow on the table beside him, he tilted his head and rested his chin on his gloved fist, as he waited for someone to break the awkward silence.

Tifa was currently half-sitting, half-lying on one of the beds, her arms folded across her chest as she pondered upon all they'd heard. Her eyes snapped to him when she felt his gaze, and she gave him a reassuring smile that quirked upwards the corners of his mouth.

His luminescent eyes then trailed to the figure of Genesis, who was sitting in the edge of the other bed, his elbows resting on his knees and his head tilted downwards. His eyes were closed and his jaw was tensed, teeth clenching as he digested all the information.

The General knew that the other male was probably trying to grasp the extent of his confession. The tale of Jenova's control over him was not his favorite subject, yet he'd had no other choice. It all started with the fateful day he met her, and it would all end the day he slashed her goodbye.

It amazed him, however, to learn that Genesis had been 'asleep' when it all transpired –his breakdown, the fight against AVALANCHE, the awakening of the weapons of Gaia, the meteor crashing onto the planet, the lifestream fighting back…

No wonder he had been taken aback by the destruction of Midgar. And that wasn't the only place that had been broken, though it was there the blunt of the attack had been taken.

As minutes rolled by, Sephiroth began to wonder how much time would be needed for Genesis to come to terms with all that had transpired –well, the General could not deny that trying to accept three years of world-changing history was not an easy task to accomplish.

Still, time was tickling by and, even if at the moment there was little they could do, Sephiroth needed reassurance from his former companion. He needed to know, in words or actions, that he could be trusted if they were to even stand a chance against their new foes.

"So, it seems that for once in your life…" Genesis straightened, then placed his hands on the sides of the bed and leaned back onto them. A cocky smirk graced his features as something not far from merriment lightened his blue orbs. "You messed up big time… hero."

Sephiroth cocked an elegant eyebrow and riposted, "I see you haven't lost the skill to state the obvious, Genesis."

The poet laughed, successfully dissipating the tension that had stolen between them. He got to his feet and began stretching lazily.

"So, I was wrong," Genesis murmured almost dreamily. Before anyone could ask what he was talking about, he turned to Tifa and took out his copy of LOVELESS. He opened it in the first page and read, "When the war of the beasts brings about the world's end. The goddess descends from the sky. Wings of light and dark spread afar. She guides us to bliss, her _gift_ everlasting…"

After that, the poet stared at the brunette with expectant eyes.

"Wow, that sounds beautiful," Tifa conceded with a small smile, albeit the confusion of the sudden change of subject was plainly written on her face.

Sephiroth sighed. He should have warned her of how much meaning Genesis managed to extract from that useless book. Personally, the General found it too vague and abstract for his liking.

"Well, do you understand what her gift is, Tifa?" Genesis enquired, closing the book and putting it back inside his pocket.

The barmaid thought about it for a moment, but eventually she shook her head apologetically. Sephiroth smirked. He would just have to also inform her later, that she shouldn't feel the need to apologize for Genesis' stupidity.

The poet, meanwhile, just smiled at her and theatrically announced, "_You_ are the real gift of the Goddess, Tifa Lockhart. And I, as Gaia's humble servant, shall serve you to the best of my abilities!"

"Ah… t-thanks!" Her smiled widened a fraction, but he could see she was still quite confused by the outburst.

Sephiroth rolled his eyes at the dramatic announcement. Yes, leave it to Genesis to immediately make a connection between everything they told him and his inane play. Although, he had to admit, the man was exceptionally skillful at molding those words to his will, making their meaning fit perfectly whatever situation he chose.

Finding herself pinned by two pairs of mako eyes, the martial artist squirmed uneasily. The oldest male knew that, for all her social nature, she disliked being pulled or pushed into the spotlight, which was precisely what Genesis had tactlessly done.

How ironic that, though she was better at social interactions, Sephiroth was the one who knew how to handle best being the center of attention –wanted or otherwise.

"That's enough, Genesis," he said, adding a subtle ring of warning to his voice. He really did not like the fact that Tifa was getting upset, and he had no qualms in holding the poet accountable for it.

"Just thought I should get that out of the way," the redheaded explained cheerfully. "But now that we've settled all that needed to be settled…" He divided his attention between him and their charge. "May I enquire as to how we'll decide the sleeping arrangements, given that we only have two beds at our disposal?"

"I was thinking the floor would be a comfortable enough place for you to rest," Sephiroth declared, with a tone that was stripped of sarcasm or amusement.

No, he was truly serious about it. After all, Genesis had been the one to join them at this inopportune time. If he followed the well-known rule of 'first-come first-served', then the other ex-SOLDIER didn't get a bed.

Since it worked for Sephiroth, he was pretty happy with his witty solution.

To his surprise, Tifa seemed the one about to protest. Before she could do so, however, Genesis beat her to it.

"Though honored by your thoughtfulness, I have to decline the kind offer. My back has been quite abused by all the nonstop driving I've been doing." Locking gazes with Sephiroth, the poet promptly offered, "I wouldn't mind sharing a bed with Tifa, if you are unwilling, though."

He immediately noticed Tifa's face blushing at the suggestion and, for some reason, it didn't bode well with him. He made a mental note to get Genesis to understand such remarks were unwelcomed. Either they should be vanquished all together or at least keep to a bare minimum in the future.

"Well?" the younger male prompted, curiosity to what he would say or do showing within the eagerness of his tone. Over the years, Sephiroth had learned to read him like an open book, and had thus learned to deal with him accordingly.

Lifestream mako eyes locked with ocean mako ones. Smiling, he retorted, "Tell me, from all the time you've known me… Have I ever given you the false impression that I like to share?"

There was a slight pause before Genesis' hearty laughter rang throughout the room.

"Good point," he granted. Then, he sighed and slumped his shoulders in mock defeat while saying wistfully, "It was worth a try, though."

Sephiroth ignored him and instead focused his attention back on the object of his affections. He was beyond pleased to find her beaming and blushing even more furiously than before. Odin, she was as exquisite to the ear and the eye as she was to the touch.

Naturally, the more time he spent in her presence, the harder it got to keep his hands to himself. Right now, for instance, he was trying to stop himself from trapping those tempting lips of hers, or --at the very least—running his bare hands through her silky locks of chocolate hair.

Knowing it was a losing battle, the General relented and stood up. Slowly, he approached the brunette and halted only when he was beside the head of the bed she was lying on.

"It's true, though," he pointed out, his eyes devouring her reverently.

She tilted her head, completely at a loss. Those big, wine eyes of her casted their magnetic spell, and –as out of character as it was-- Sephiroth was feeling all too willing to submit to her without a fight.

"I don't like sharing." He explained before adding, "Do you approve, Tifa?"

Belatedly did he notice his statement was rather vague. More so since there was a deeper meaning to his words than the one presented.

With those abstract words he was asking the equivalent of 'would you be my girlfriend'. Only, the term –the whole question seemed so childish to him. Granted, he wasn't the best source when it came to rules of engagement with the opposite sex, especially in regards to relationships. But still, Tifa had become an important aspect of his life.

She had reinvented his existence, reconstructed his view of life. Terms that used to be alien to him where, little by little, grasped with intense understanding. For the first time ever, he understood what it was to fight, work –simply '_live'_ for someone else. He found what it was to have his own happiness be dependent on the happiness of another and yet, be completely at ease with such a notion.

So, yes. He was asking her if she wanted to be exclusive. He was asking if she could accept him for the role Cloud had stupidly turned down. He was asking if she would give him a chance to make her happy, to allow him to stay with her through the trials head and past them.

But before the possibility of her not understanding what he was truly asking could prompt him to clarify his thoughts, he realized his concerns were baseless.

She understood. He could see that glint of unbound comprehension filling her wine eyes. The barmaid's entire face split when her smile widened, adding even more beauty to her overall appearance, if that was even possible.

"That's fine, Sephiroth Crescent," she responded sweetly with just a moderate tint of seductiveness. The tone threatened to almost make him shiver outwardly, but he managed to keep himself from making evident his instinctive –and quickly developing-- emotions.

Standing up, she boldly place one of her calloused hands on his broad chest, deliberately touching the patch of skin that showed from the opening of his coat. He would be lying if he said he minded. Quite the contrary, in fact, the feel of her hand upon his skin felt unnaturally right.

She smiled at him and he realized that his approval had probably shown in his eyes. Whatever the case, he wasn't about to deny the fact that he truly liked her and, thus, craved her touch.

Suddenly, standing on tiptoes, she held the sides of his face and gave him a quick peck, much like the one she'd given him before getting back into the car earlier that day. This was something that he was more than willing to turn into a routine.

Quite proudly, Tifa finally confessed, "I don't like to share either."

Sephiroth smiled and his arms immediately clasped around her waist, the movement coming to him mechanically, yet feeling quite appropriate. Yes, he wouldn't mind doing this every day as long as it was with Tifa.

Leaning forward, he whispered into her ear, "That is acceptable."

She giggled softly, biting her lower lip to convey both her happiness and nervousness. He was about to reprimand her for abusing her lip again, when Genesis chose that inconvenient moment to remind them of his presence.

Now, this was also something new in him. It simply wasn't a normal thing for him to forget his surroundings or to shut out the environment as completely as he did whenever he was under Tifa's spell.

Did it concern him? It did a little, but not enough to stop him from allowing the spell to ensnare him.

"I would ask you two to get a room, if I was certain that wouldn't get _me_ kicked out of 'this' room by the _both_ of you. So," blue eyes laughing with hearty amusement, he stood up, "I'll just ignore the fact that you seemed to have forgotten me, and suggest we get something to eat before going to bed. If the weather permits it, we should be able to arrive at Costa del Sol by midday tomorrow. Until then, it would be wise to get as much rest as possible."

Though he hated to admit it and would rather have Genesis out of the room, Sephiroth couldn't fault his logic. Indeed, they didn't know if they would be able to have a goodnight rest once they touched land again.

As long as they were at sea, the possibility of encountering another of Jenova's minions was improbable. However, once they started to make their way to Nibelheim –if indeed useful information could be attained there—then it was safe to conclude that their foes would be on the lookout around that area.

"I agree," he conceded, moving to the place where he'd left his cloak.

Concealing garment in place, he took Tifa's hand and, as an afterthought, decided to bring his masamune as well. It never hurt to be prepared, after all.

When he turned towards the exit, he found Genesis was already at the door with his cloak and hood in place. He nodded curtly at the younger male and they left, the poet leading the way to the boat's cafeteria.

As they followed him, Sephiroth silently made a decision that he probably wouldn't have been so quick to make in the past. He decided, even with the lack of evidence, to trust Genesis.

In any case, if he even wished to stand a chance to battle Jenova, he would need all the help he could get. And there was no denying it. Genesis was a warrior to behold. He would surely prove helpful in the battles to come.

So, yes. He would trust him to help them overcome this new threat.

He turned towards the woman who was now comfortably hanging onto his arm. She smiled at him, making his lips part into a grin of contentment. It was incredible how easily she made him –not smirk—but actually smile. Hell, Sephiroth had probably smiled a lot more in the last couple of weeks with Tifa, than in all the years before meeting her.

And in that split second, Sephiroth Crescent also made another choice.

He decided that her safety he would trust to no one but himself. That was the extent of his devotion, because –perhaps unknowingly to her-- Tifa Lockhart no longer meant his ticket to both redemption and revenge.

No.

He'd gone past that point already.

Now, she meant, simply put, _everything_ to him.

**-o0o-**

**Aeris Gainsborough **kept stroking the spiky hair of the man who was soundly sleeping with his head resting on her lap. He was lying on his side, with one of his hands fisted in her skirt, holding some of the cloth in a baseless attempt to stop her from leaving.

Cloud had been reluctant to sleep at first, probably too scared to close his eyes and find her gone when he regained consciousness. However, after a while of her asking, then advising and finally downright threatening, he had finally yielded and succumbed into the lull of much needed sleep.

He hadn't taken good care of himself. She could see it so plainly it hurt. Knowing him, he'd probably been moping around, blaming himself for her death when the truth was, fate had decided she was needed elsewhere.

She turned to look at the vast sky that was changing hues as the sun began its retreat for the day. In the past, she'd been afraid of the sky. Deep within, she'd naively believed that if she were to leave the slums of Midgar, she would be eaten by it.

It wasn't that different from what truly happened. Aerith had indeed been swallowed up by the sky the moment Sephiroth's sword had robbed her of her life. However, it hadn't been as scary as she'd expected, nor it had been painful.

Far from it, in fact, it had actually been… well, she could only describe the experience as blissful. Peace. It was such a cliché concept, and yet she'd felt it become palpable as she let go of her solid cage.

As soon as her soul was free, an aura of silence and gentleness surrounded her. The soothing, firm arms of Gaia had embraced her with fervor, pulling her into the planet's latent core.

There, she had felt the lifestream cradling her, rocking her gently to and fro to the heartbeats of thousands of soul. She wasn't dragged like a prisoner nor shaken like a ragdoll. Instead, she'd been welcomed like the prodigious daughter, coming back to her origins, to the place where it all started.

It was in that form, as she lay between the plane of the living and that of the dead, that she'd felt Gaia's anguish, heard her roar of pain as the meteor scarred her face. Aerith had tilted the balance then and moved towards the living plane. It was the only way she could help, never mind that she was sacrificing her peaceful heaven in the process.

Thus, she'd fought just like her friends --alongside them, actually-- for the planet, the loving mother of the human race, and for its wailing children.

When the battle had been won, Minerva had granted her permission to see her friends whenever she wished, as a reward for her selfless actions. Therefore, every once in a while, she did just that. She gazed at those who still lived, and witnessed sorely as some slowly began to die from the inside out.

She soon came to realize that her death had been heavy upon a particular individual. Cloud had pushed everyone away as he tried to deal with his pain alone. Sometimes, as she soared beside him –following him as he sped through solitary grounds-- she wondered if Cloud could feel her, if he could see her…

He would sometimes talk to her, apologize to the air as though he _knew_ she was there watching, waiting. It was because of this, that she'd decided to leave, to not visit the plane of the living anymore. If she wanted Cloud to move on with his life, she needed to move on with her death as well.

So she'd left.

Only it was painfully clear now that she was back, that she was the only one who tried to move on.

_I'll take care of you, Cloud,_ she promised, humming a gentle lullaby as she kept her ministrations, knowing that it was only her touch what was keeping him reassured of her constant presence even when asleep.

Suddenly, a sound pierced through her melody, shattering mercilessly their moment of solitude. As it grew louder, it stirred the swordsman out of his sleep. He was on his feet in an instant, his buster sword on hand and ready to protect her from whoever was coming.

Just then, a dark helicopter descended from the sky, landing a few feet from them like an omen of impending doom.

The Cetra noticed Cloud's grip tightening on his sword. It immediately slacked when a familiar figure climbed elegantly out of the craft, his blood and tattered cape an unalterable characteristic that would identify him from miles away.

He approached them slowly, his surprise at seeing Aerith evident in his eyes. Contradicting emotions clashed within its cherry depths, the sentiments swirling around so fast that she was left unsure of how to feel.

Was Vincent Valentine glad to see her? Or was he trying to figure out if she was some sort of doppelganger? A weapon device by a clever enemy or by a lunatic mind?

"Is it really…?" Vincent left the reminder of his enquiry hanging on the air, knowing there was no need to finish it.

Aerith smiled and clasped her hands behind her in a gesture that, she hoped, would put the guarded man at ease, "It's really me, Vincent. It's good to see you."

Vincent nodded, a glint of suspicion and disbelief flashing through his eyes, before his expression became solemn and hard. He didn't say anything to that, though she chose to attribute his lack of an emotional response to the shock of seeing her alive and kicking after three years of being… well, dead.

Cloud, perhaps unconsciously, moved to stand between her and the gunslinger, symbolically protecting her from unwelcomed questions produced by distrust.

"What are you doing here, Vincent?" Blue eyes trailed to study the helicopter for an instant, pushing him to add rather drily, "You decided to start working for the Turks now?"

A string of fragile tension settled between the two males, and Aerith found herself fidgeting as she tried to find a way to lighten the mood.

The gunslinger, however, crossed his arms and his eyes narrowed a fraction in a glare. "Seventh Heaven was attacked. AVALANCHE is gathering in Edge as we speak."

Aerith's eyes went wide, her heart pounding rapidly at the implications of his statement. Minerva had said she was needed, was this what she meant? Was Tifa the one who needed her?

The sound of steel connecting with the ground, made her turned towards the blonde swordsman. His eyes were even wider, his face had paled a shade and his limbs were shaking slightly. A sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead and Aerith knew he was already blaming himself.

As if to reinforce her guess, his voice seemed to have fled as his jaw moved but articulated nothing. After a pregnant pause of failed attempts at speaking, he finally whispered a single word. The word that was the hardest to utter, but which could –in itself- convey the piling questions he dared not voice.

"Teef…?"

Vincent just shook his head, his eyes filled –not with anger at the swordsman—but with remorse, "All I know is that she's missing." He paused, "We should hurry. You can fill us in on how," his eyes switched for a moment to Aerith, "_this_ happened our way there."

The Cetra nodded in approval and, realizing Cloud was still in somewhat of a shock, she took his arm and led him towards the helicopter. Vincent followed after retrieving Cloud's sword.

The motorcycle that was Cloud's pride and joy, was completely forgotten as the helicopter melted into the darkening ceiling of already glinting stars.

**To be continued…**

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**AN:** Well things are about to get more interesting. Soon, they'll all be meeting. For those who have been waiting for Cid to make an appearance, he'll be doing that next chapter! So, if you like this one, please **review** and make my day. Spread the happiness, people! It will only take you a moment.


	17. Coincidences and Dreams

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any of its characters. I am just burrowing them for a while.

**Author's notes: **So, this took some time. I was on vacation, then I came back but wasn't able to write anything (attributed to an intense _migraine_ followed by lack of inspiration). I also have reprioritized things. I am currently writing two stories, and since the other one is getting more reviews –twice what this is getting—it thus took precedence (which is why it took longer for me to update this). I will still continue this story, though. I will also try to update once per week, but I do not know if it'll be possible. So remember that a **review** does make a difference!

**Quick thanks to logged-on readers: **Eva Von Dee, Eevee-san, GodricGryff, Ghedea, CNome, butterfly-aquamaiden28, expressz641, kelana-ti, Selendrii, Kairi-loves-Sushi, LoveableDimples16, HazzaTL3 _and_ Winter Banshee.

**Quick replies to anonymous readers: **Sephiroth_Owa13_(Thank you so much! Glad you approve of my Aerith, and I just thought she would really mommy him –she is that kind of person to him, you know. About Teef and Cloud… you'll just have to wait and see!), _pearlwhite _(Thanks! My week was better :p. Glad you enjoyed Seph's way of asking Tifa if she wants to be with him. BTW, what is TLC?), _Sephysephysephiroth _(Thanks! Don't worry I am taking that into consideration. About the evil guy's motives, well, this chapter should sort of answer that! Thanks!) _Galiriol _(Glad you like how Vinny and Reno took the news. About Cloud being like a kid, yeah… I'll try to make him mature though, lol), _an oh nymus _(Sorry, I'm back now. I was on vacation), _and na _(Thanks! Hope you like this one). _

**Edited by:** ...

**~Enjoy** and don't forget to **review**!

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"_The world is in the hands of those who have the courage to dream… and run the risk of living their dreams."_

_-Paulo Cohelo-_

"**One Winged Angels"**

By: FenixPhoenix

**Chapter 17: "Coincidences and Dreams"**

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**Barret Wallace **was interrupted mid-speech by the arrival of Rie. Swirling slightly in his chair, he followed the approach of the young scientist wondering what news she brought. They most probably concerned the back-bladed knife they'd found amidst the wreck of Seventh Heaven, since she had shown especial interest in it. He surmised it may have to do with the strange tint of the blade, but the truth was, with Rie, he was never sure of anything.

As if to support his musings about the woman's strangeness, he watched as, when she passed by the figure of Reeve –who was still on the phone, talking to Vincent Valentine—he flashed a smile which she return plain awkwardly, as though unsure of how best to respond.

A mild growl coming from his right, made him return his attention back to his companion and sister in arms.

"Somethin' rufflin' yor feathers?" He asked her, raising one eyebrow and folding his muscled arms across his chest.

Yuffie's face turned a light shade of red, probably at fact that he'd so _skillfully_ caught her indiscretion. But could the young brat truly have a thing for the ex-spy? Wasn't he a little too old for her, anyways?

Some of these inner thoughts must have shown on his face, because the rose of Wutai was quick to turn all defensive on him.

"Oh, GAWD, what are you talking about, old man!" She recuperated, laughing as though what he'd said had been the funniest thing on earth.

Barret's eyes narrowed. He didn't really take it lightly to being call old when he was nothing but. Hell, he was in his mid-thirties, the pinnacle of his youth!

In fact, now that he reflected upon it, Reeve wasn't that old either. Good ol' ex-spy was around his age, actually. Obviously, in his humble but nonetheless frank opinion, he was much more conserved than Reeve in—

_Why the hell's she looking at m'like that?_

"Gaia to Barret, are you listening to me? Did you hit your head and hurt your brain or something!" She paused, scratching her chin as a mischievous tint replaced her look of mock concern. "Maybe the old age is taking its toll…"

He was about to retort to the uncalled insult, when he realized that she'd _almost_ managed to switch the spotlight from her to him.

_Oh, no, you don't!_

He smirked.

"Yo're jealous of Reeve's chick, ain't you?" He taunted in a questioning matter, a broad smile wiping away his scorn. Seeing Yuffie squirming with discomfort was always a treat for the human machine-gun, especially because it was such a rare occurrence.

The woman forced some more laughter out.

"GROSS-NESS! Gee… I think you've really gone senile," she pointed out, her stiff body belying the nonchalance of her voice.

For a ninja, Yuffie was quite sloppy when it came to lying her way around something. Just when he was about to voice his observation, Rie plopped down on the empty chair beside him unceremoniously.

"Who is Reeve talking to?" she asked, setting a manila folder filled with papers on the table between the three of them.

"Why? You jealous, science geek?" Sniggered Yuffie, practically shoving her face right in front of the other female's.

Now this was getting so interesting, that Barret deemed it best to just sit back, relax and enjoy the show. Shiva knew he needed something to distract him from thinking too much about Teef's situation.

So, deciding to regard this as a gift sent by the Goddess, and knowing that one should never look a gift horse in the mouth, he leaned back, crossed his arms and waited.

"Jealous…? No quite, I'm merely curious. It has been long since I've seen him so engrossed in a conversation," Rie pointed out, sparing a glance at the purple robed figure, who was now walking to and fro while listening intently to the voice in the other end of the line.

"Oh, you know, come to think of it," Yuffie began, placing her cheek on her open palm and leaning on her elbow in apparent boredom. Giving the other female a sidelong glance she continued, "I think the man Reeve is talking to is _perfect_ for you. I mean, he's sort of your type and all."

"My… type?" Rie echoed completely confused, "Could you elaborate?"

Barret frowned. Well, if he didn't know any better, he would say Yuffie wanted to set Vincent up with a woman. However, knowing his companion, he knew it had to do more with trying to get rid of her competition than helping anyone else.

"Yeah, you will _so_ like him! He's a… great subj— er, guy," the ninja announced, wiggling her eyebrows and trying to hide her tongue slip by adding a smile so wide, it looked quite scary in Barret's onion.

Rie turned to the figure of Reeve, "So he's like Reeve, then?"

Barret chuckle at Yuffie's startled look.

"W-well, not quite," the ninja confided, not sure about how to regain control of the conversation. "Why, you _like_ Reeve?"

The scientist nodded, "Of course. Why wouldn't I?"

This time both members of AVALANCHE raised their eyebrows in surprise. Her response had been so straightforward that it had not been expected.

For her part, Yuffie retreated into her thoughts for a couple of minutes before enquiring almost hesitantly, "You do know there are different ways of _liking_ someone, right?"

"Different ways?" A deep frown stole its way to Rie's brow.

The other female, relief glinting in her eyes –or was it hope?-- nodded eagerly.

"Well, I have always supposed that if I enjoyed Reeve's company, then that must mean I like him. In what other way could I like him or any other, though? And how would I know? Is there some sort of equation for it?"

"Err… no quite. It's a bit more complicated than all your geekie stuff." Yuffie frowned, probably rattling her brain to come up with a simple way to clear her point. After a few seconds, she spoke, "Well, do you like him the same way you like me, for example?"

When silence ensured, Barret turned to find Rie was looking quite uncomfortable about the new situation and wondered why. The question wasn't all that difficult, at least he didn't think so. Nonetheless, he didn't have to guess for very long because the woman eventually leaned towards him and asked in a whisper.

"Should I answer that?"

Though he was confused by the question, he still responded with a, "Dun't see why not."

Truth be told, his interest in regards to her answer had doubled. Why would she be nervous of an answer that should be quite easy?

"Well, I guess I do… but in a different degree," the scientist confessed.

"What do you mean?" The Wutaian tilted her head sideways and waited.

Shrugging nonchalantly she admitted, "I don't like you very much."

Hard as he tried, Barret was unable to keep a straight face. His laughter brought Reeve to the table just as he hung up the phone, only to be met by a livid Yuffie and a sheepish-looking Rie.

"What did you do this time?" Reeve asked, turning to the scientist while placing a placating hand on Yuffie's shoulder. Before the woman could answer, though, he seemed to think better of it. "Never mind, there are more important things to discuss."

With that, he took the seat next to Yuffie and heaved a sigh so dramatic, everyone else was rendered silent and grim.

"What did Vinny say?" prompted the ninja softly.

Barret just leaned forward, pinning the ex-spy with his avid but solemn gaze, all traces of merriment having left him in a blink.

"Reno, Rude, Nanaki, Vincent and Cloud are on their way," he said, massaging the back of his neck, "They should be here sometime tomorrow."

"So spiky's comin', huh? He's gonna get a piece of mine mind when he get's 'ere!" Barret vowed angrily, his hand fisting furiously.

"Wait… What else are you not telling us?" Yuffie prodded, her eyes filled with suspicion and something akin to… fright?

That immediately brought Barret back to the conversation. He too, narrowed his eyes. He really didn't like being kept in the dark, so why was this man constantly doing it!

"A-a…," a pause and a sigh followed. "Aerith is with them," he finally answered, locking eyes first with Yuffie and then with him.

Yuffie gasped in absolute shock and Barret just blinked several times, unable to understand what he'd been told. Surely, he must have heard the man wrong because—

"Aerith? Is she not the one that was murdered by Sephiroth?" Rie asked, evidently confused but not really _shocked_ by the news. She hadn't been there, after all…

Reeve, the most composed of the three Avalanchers, nodded somberly, "Same one. Just… don't ask me how because I have no idea… Neither does Vincent."

Feeling confusion mixing with dread, anxiety and impotence, Barret brought his machinegun down on the table. Hard. The structure groaned and twisted, leaving a deep indentation across the metallic surface.

"The hell's goin' on!" Barret growled, using his human hand to hide his face as mental exhaustion kicked in.

He just had so many questions. And every time he searched for answers, he was met with nothing but more questions. Did the return of Aerith have something to do with what happened to Teef? Or with the supposed revival of Sephiroth? Or was everything just a huge coincidence?

He snorted at the last thought.

The thing was, Barret did not believe in coincidences of this magnitude. No, this seemed more like a game set by and for the planet where they were nothing but pieces of chess being moved across a huge board.

Thus he questioned…

Were all the pieces in motion already?

**-o0o-**

**Tifa Lockhart **woke up in the middle of the night, only to find the spot beside her _empty_. She rolled onto her back, wondering where Sephiroth had gone to and, most importantly, why.

_He can't possibly wake up at--_ she peered at the digital clock on the nightstand between the beds. The bright green digits read 'four' in the morning. _Come on! It's too early, even for him!_

She curled onto herself, feeling a bit abandoned despite knowing he would never _leave_ her like another had done in the past. And yet, though she knew they were not even remotely similar, she couldn't stop making comparisons between the two SOLDIERs she'd come to depend upon, each in a different time of her life and in a far different way. For whereas one of them guarded her past, the other had become a sentinel of both her present, and hopefully, her future.

But could --would Sephiroth leave her one day like Cloud did? Would she be discarded again –tossed to the side without an ounce of consideration to her feelings?

Just when her fears were threatening to spill out of the brim of her control, the barmaid realized that the water that had been running through the pipes behind the walls, ceased flowing.

She frowned, casting a scrutinizing glance at the other bed. Genesis was still soundly asleep, so that meant—

The door opened and out came her silver haired General. Tifa noted idly that no steam was coming out of the bathroom behind him and frowned at the peculiarity of it. For even with the heater on, the temperature was not as hot as to prompt someone to purposely take a cold shower.

As he silently made his way to the vanity, she noticed another oddity concerning him. Though he'd stepped out of the shower, he was still dressed in the baggy pants he used to sleep –which was not strange considering he was a modest person-- but he was also wearing his white wife beater.

Why was this strange?

Well, because the man was toweling his hair, going to great efforts to avoid getting his shirt wet, when the easiest solution would be to simply have it off. It was not as if a male with a body like _that_ would be embarrassed about flashing his muscles, right?

Hell, it wasn't even immoral, at least not in her book. Quite the contrary, it was something extremely natural. In fact, it was so natural that the fact that he wasn't doing it should be considered a sin!

_What a damn shame,_ she thought wistfully, as images of his abs and pectorals paraded through her mind.

Wouldn't that be a sight to behold?

Yes, yes it would.

_Shirts should definitely be banned for men at night._

A sudden realization hit her as swift and strong as a bolt of lightning. In the time she'd been living with him, Tifa had not once seen Sephiroth shirtless. Well, she had peered at him once after he had gotten out of the shower in the hotel, but it hadn't even been a proper look! So, this was a mistake that certainly needed urgent rectification!

The shifting of fabric brought her back to reality. Sephiroth had finished combing his hair and, to her delight, he was coming back to bed. For some reason, she quickly closed her eyes and feign being asleep.

Now that she thought about it, did Sephiroth taking a shower had something to do with the fact that --according to something Cloud told her a long time ago-- she always cuddled with whomever was close to her when asleep?

Well, she knew for certain that the only one of AVALANCH who didn't care sleeping next to her was Red. Every other male –and even female—were surprisingly hesitant. Whenever Cloud would sleep beside her, she would always wake up alone and the swordsman would go to some lengths to avoid direct contact with her throughout that day.

Even Vincent Valentine, when once she'd slept beside him, had seemed a tad paler in the morning and even more quiet than usual.

Why was it that she'd never asked any of them to describe how she cuddled? Back then, it didn't really seem that important, but compared to what they were doing it was only natural for it to be so.

Now, though, she wished Cloud had at least been more informative.

The mattress shifted as the weight of the ex-SOLDIER's body was placed upon it. Tifa lay on her shoulder, giving the man her back as she reflected upon her discovery. Was it really that bad –her cuddling that is?

After a while, the martial artist could take the wondering –the curiosity no longer. Okay, that was an excuse. Truth was, she wanted to feel Sephiroth next to her, she wanted to have her hands holding him, touching him…

In other words, she was craving for some cuddling with the powerful General. But come on, could anyone possibly blame her for it?

It was not everyday she was given the opportunity to have Sephiroth lying so very near and so very still, though she wouldn't mind making it an every night event.

Gosh, it was so tempting… _He_ was so tempting…

_I'll just keep pretending I'm asleep,_ she resolved, being careful to continue keeping her breathing even. After a second of gathering her wits, she rolled over, finding he was surprisingly closer than she'd anticipated, so that her head ended up lying on his shoulder.

Tifa fought the grin that wanted to spread across her face.

_Works for me, _she beamed, cuddling more into him. After only a millisecond of hesitation, she audaciously draped an arm across his stomach and hugged him to her.

_SCORE!_

For one of those rare and very few times, luck was actually on her side!

"I know you are not asleep, Tifa."

Or not.

_Maybe if I just stay very st—_

Her brain ceased to work when she felt him rolling onto his side and pulling her flush against him by the waist. She felt his lips brushing against the shell of her ear, felt his breath crashing upon her cheek and could not bit back the whispered moan that rolled out her lips.

"You don't cuddle like that," he whispered so seductively, she shivered.

Tifa opened her eyes and focused them solely on him. Odin, he looked so… well, he literally took her breath away.

With eyes glazed and mind working dizzily, the barmaid gulped before enquiring in a hoarse whisper, "How, then?"

"Are you sure you want to know?"

_Just what the hell do I do at night! _

Still, the curiosity was killing her, so she nodded.

His smirk accentuated. Sephiroth gently pushed her back by the shoulder so that she was lying on her back. She did not fight him, she did not even question him. Right now, she was willing to allow him to do as he pleased with her.

Suddenly, the General pulled her close to his side again and draped an arm across her stomach, smoothly introducing four of his fingers into the waistband of her shorts.

She gasped, but didn't push him away.

Her heartbeat, however, rose in rhythm and volume, drumming against her temples as thick, burning lava coursed through her veins.

But it was not over.

After a short while, where he may have been gauging her reaction, he brought one of his legs in between hers and bended it slightly, so that his thigh was pressing slightly upon her crotch.

"This is what you do?" he said, caressing her neck with his nose and kissing it lightly.

"Oh," she managed to utter rather breathless. "I-I see."

A few seconds of absolute bliss, and then she felt him retrieved his hand from where he'd practically shoved it into her shorts. Slowly but surely, the man began to pull away.

Mild trepidation followed.

The idea of losing the closeness –the intimacy they were now enjoying was not particularly appealing at the moment.

So, instinctively, while he pulled back, she pushed forward. The action was so unexpected, that Tifa ended up pushing him flat on his back with the weight of her body. In between shadows, desire was ignited more furiously than ever before and she searched avidly for his lips.

When she found them, she trapped them in a passionate kiss that Sephiroth eagerly returned.

Still working on his mouth, her hands moved on impulse down his sides. When she reached the hem of his shirt, she slipped them inside to explore that which she'd only felt in fantasies.

Relishing in the smoothness of his skin, she traced each muscles with heated fingers. Valleys, mountains and plains met her as she caressed the marked abs that practically yelled to be touched. Near the lake that was his bellybutton, she brushed against a downward path of thin hair.

Sephiroth tensed slightly when she moved a finger down that path, and began fingering the waistband of his pants. One of his hands stopped her ministrations and, breaking from the kiss, he groaned.

"Tifa," he whispered roughly, breath coming out raggedly, "as much as it pains me –and _believe_ me, it does—it would be preferable to continue this in a more… 'private' time."

The barmaid hid her face on the crook of his neck, groaning at the fact that they were not going to finish what they started. In addition, she was now all hot and bothered!

The General's chuckle made her pull away in order to study him. His luminescent gaze was filled with such merriment, it lightened his entire face, rendering him even more handsome than he already was.

"But say the word and I will gladly have Genesis out of the room."

Tempting as the idea was, Tifa knew guilt would be eating at her _after_ she was done with Sephiroth.

No, they would just have to wait. At least the fact that he had left an open invitation with his previous statement served as comfort.

"No, you're right," she relented, rolling off of him with a sigh. "We'll just have to finish this another time."

"Pity," he said with thick mischief.

She giggled softly until it became a sigh.

"Do I really cuddle like that?" she asked.

He chuckled, "You do."

She blushed even more when the full extent of this new information sunk into her mind. No wonder poor Vincent was so pale!

"Darn it! Now I'm all hot and bothered," she informed, unable to hide the annoyance she felt. Why did Genesis have to be here?!

Sephiroth rolled onto his side, facing her, and whispered, "A cold shower should help with that."

"I'm guessing you are speaking from experience," she taunted playfully.

"Obviously."

She sighed once more before getting up. As she made her way to the bathroom, she wondered if Sephiroth had been just as bothered as she felt. If he had, then it would appear this could be nothing short of karmic justice…

**-o0o-**

**Uriel **sat on his favorite chair in what he had come to refer to as 'the lounge'. Around him, some of his brothers and sisters were serenely interac--

"Castiel, why don't you stop playing with that piece of plastic, and instead come play with me?" Jezbel purred, leaning across the table to where the redheaded was lounging, eyeing a small evidence bag with great interest.

Either the swordsman didn't hear her or he decided to ignore her, both of which were equally strong possibilities.

Shaking his head in silent chiding, Uriel watched as the brunette attempted to grab the object that had stolen his complete attention. The redheaded moved it out of her grasp at the last second with an angry tsking sound.

"Back up, Harlot," he snarled in a more irritated manner than usual. Something was troubling him, but neither Uriel nor the rest of the family had so far been unable to find out what it was. Standing up briskly, the swordsman glared at Jezbel before stalking away while mumbling irritated curses along the way.

Jezbel, for her part, growled at his retreating back and, turning on her heels, she stormed out of the room in the opposite direction.

A chuckle somewhere to his right, made the humongous male switch his attention to where the plasma TV was showcasing a cartoon show.

Zariel was laughing at how a cat was being harassed by a bunch of mice, while Oriel just sat there mesmerized by the show yet showing no evident sign of understanding its purpose.

"Ori, pul-ese! Don't cha get the very very very funny humor of it? You seriously need to lighten up a lot, lil' brother!" Zariel pointed out, elbowing the younger male on the side. "You're soooo like a machine sometimes."

Whether it was the fact that her bony elbow had connected painfully with Oriel's side, or he had taken her words as an insult, the boy flinched. It was the only visual sign of emotion he gave before slipping back his mask of steel.

Uriel sighed. Well, at least, _some _were attempting to interact. Perhaps their exchanges were not always peaceful, but neither were their lives or their pasts for that matter.

No. Pain and loneliness composed a hellish symphony of nightmares that resulted in each and every one of their pasts. So different and yet, in essence, they were the same.

Experiments.

Monsters.

Victims.

Now, however, they were brothers and sisters united for a common cause.

And a common dream, perhaps?

The sound of steps made Uriel turn to his left, only to find Sephiel coming towards him. His hazel eyes –very similar to his own—were scanning the room, looking for someone who Uriel knew, had stolen his shattered heart.

"She left a while ago," he informed, just as Sephiel took the seat across from his.

"I don't know what you're talking about, brother," he retorted drily, though the slight blush of his cheeks indicated otherwise.

Uriel was just glad he hadn't entered the room a couple of minutes earlier. Like all of them, Sephiel had gone through a lot in his past, rejection by Jezbel would only harden his heart more than it already was.

It was funny, really, how very human in nature they all were. Sure, to the world they were monsters, even to themselves they were nothing but experiments. And yet, the same kind of drama a human family would undergo was lived here every day.

Naturally, they were family in name only, united by a shared past of pain and a promise of a peaceful future. The fact that they all shared the same mother –again in name only—was also a chain that locked them together in a web of dreams, a shelter of safety and comfort.

Most of them did not know what safety felt like before meeting each other. As experiments, they had been isolated, prodded and treated like garbage. Expensive garbage, but garbage no less.

Though they seemed outwardly normal, each and every one had dealt with the constant suffering of the mind and the body to the best of their abilities but in a far different way.

Castiel hid his scars behind dark humor and sardonic smiles. Always finding a way to make a situation humorous and getting under the skin of those who crossed him the wrong way. He was exceptionally skillful in pretending he took no one but Raphael seriously, even if that was not the case.

Jezbel had hid her scars behind the charms of a seductress. She'd been taken advantage of for so long, that she'd come to a point where she no longer feared or despised sex, but rather she enjoyed it like an addiction. And yet, underneath the casualness with which she flirted, Uriel could tell she was craving for something more. Something which she felt she didn't deserve, but wanted it no less. Like all the human creatures, she wanted to be _loved_.

Then there was Oriel, the youngest of them. He had hid his pain behind a mask of steel. His mind had closed itself to the world in an effort to keep him safe. Human emotions were alien and incomprehensible things to him. The most basic instincts were repressed, forgotten in such a way that it was impossible to bring them back. And Uriel hurt every time he saw him, because what he saw was but a carcass –a boy who was already dead.

Next was Zariel, who'd hid her pain behind a twisted innocence that was sadistic in nature. She acted like a mindless bimbo, talking nonstop and showing scattered wits. Her mind seemed disconnected from what her body was doing, speaking one thing but doing another. Her words spoke of love, devotion, and innocent pleasures and yet, like a machine, her body acted only to hurt, maim and kill.

Ariel, though seemingly the least affected, hid her scars behind a wall of toughness. Still, though she acted with unlimited confidence, it was a constant challenge to prove her worth –not to others—but to herself. The fact that she took insult easily and was always forced to try to match her strength to another, signified her lack of self worth. If her esteem comes from comparing herself to another, then where was her own sense of being?

And then there was Sephiel. The last they'd retrieved from the sterile laboratory where he'd been caged. He was striving more than living, but he was trying like no other. Though his pride had been wounded time and again, he still maintained both a sense of humanity –fragile as that may be—and his sanity. Perhaps that is why Uriel felt most comfortable with him?

"What's going on in that head of yours? Dreaming of an ideal future for us again?" Sephiel asked, crossing his arms and gazing at the 'children' nearby. Though his question should have sounded mocking, it wasn't. Instead, it showed the wistful thinking of a pessimist man.

"Precisely," Uriel admitted calmly. "Sometimes, Sephiel, I wish we could stay like this. Not striving, but living; not fighting but relaxing. Enjoying our freedom and recovering the life we thought we'd lost." He smiled, taking his surroundings in, "And when I see everyone like this –together, even if some discussions are to be had, I can almost image that everything that needs to be done has come to pass."

Sephiel snorted, "As if we could live with _them_… What future could a demon expect if he tries to live among the humans that created them?"

Uriel turned to him. So bitter… his brother was so bitter, he was unable to see the possibilities staring him right on the face.

"Have you ever consider that what holds us back and down is our own way of thinking?" he offered.

"Could you speak human for me, please?"

Uriel chuckled, "Every living creature has a monster within –humans included. So perhaps we aren't that different, even with all that has been done to us. Our mistake lies in thinking we were created like _monsters_, instead of being born like angels. Our past had been controlled, yes. But when will we break those chains they placed upon our limbs, Sephiel? Do you not think it is time to break free, stand tall and, for once, _create_ our own present and future?"

A gentle hand was laid upon his shoulder, making Uriel turn to the owner with surprise in his eyes. He had not heard or sensed anyone approaching, and thus when he saw _him_ standing there, he was reminded of his power.

Raphael, the most _beautiful_ creature he had ever laid eyes upon.

His hair was a waterfall of silver silk that reach down to his mid-back. His skin was a smooth, polished bronze and his features were exquisitely elegant with sharp angels. His eyes were the deepest of gold, glinting like twin sons amidst a sunset.

Perhaps he was not the ideal image of what an angel should look like, but the contrast of his natural colors was worthy of representing a semi-god at the least. And of course, there was his candor and his gentleness, being welcome additions to his unparallel skill and unlimited wisdom.

Everything he had, Uriel owed it to Raphael. For it had been him who had set him free, him who had given him a sense of belonging, him who had protected him from harm.

He was their savior. He was their link to their mother. He was their leaders. And in a way, --even if he looked no older than in his mid-thirties-- he was their father.

He was the only man—angel--being who would be able to humble Sephiel with a look, make Castiel speak with his heart, make Oriel's eyes shine with understanding, make Jezbel smile a true smile, make Ariel bow in submission and render Zariel silent.

And to him --to Uriel? Raphael did not only make him dream of a peaceful future, but also make him believe it was possible.

"Such wise words, my child," the beautiful man said, smiling sincerely down at him. "We must heed them carefully. Our time has come, and we must now be bearers of our own faith. Destiny is in our hands… only if we chose it so."

"Father," he said, bowing his head, "We will follow you till the end if needed be."

For Raphael and Raphael only, Uriel would gladly live and die for.

**To be continued…**

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**AN: **I know I said Cid would appear, but I decided to have Uriel's scene instead. So next chapter will have some Cid! Also, if you like, please **review.** Remember reviews allow for faster updates!

~Cheers!

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**Fanart: **Made a drawing for this fic which you can find in a link provided in my profile or here (take away the spaces): **h t t p : / / gigi-fenixphoenix . deviantart . com / art / Trust-me- 129871789**


	18. The Puzzle

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any of its characters. I am just burrowing them for a while.

**Author's notes: **Finally finished. I was having some trouble writing the first scene, since I didn't want to have to repeat everything that has happened so far. Thankfully, I managed to find a way to get around that, so I hope you enjoy! Thanks for all the support, guys! BTW, for those interested in fanart drawings of this fic, **please read the AN at the end**!

**Quick thanks to logged-on readers: **TroubledFred, TornAngelWings, Kick-It-Aus Style-Mal's, GodricGryff, Ghedea, Hanna Aeneas Ketchum, CNome, Kairi-loves-Sushi, LoveableDimples16, Trance Sephiroth, shadowamy88, Eva Von Dee, Goopy Sentimentalist, Valentine'sNinja, Winter Banshee _and_ Wolf'srain30.

**Quick replies to anonymous readers: **butterflyed-animegirl28_ (lol, no, don't worry. I'm still alive and kickin' and so is the story. I had a lot of fun on vacation, thanks! I got a bit sunburned, but nothing too painful), _an-oh-nymus _(*return the mental hug* thanks! I did have a lot of fun. I even got to swim in an underground river!),_pearlwhite_ (don't worry, I won't stop writing this, even if it gets few reviews. And thanks for the sympathies, I just hate migraines! As to Raphel's name, yes, I was aware of what his name means, which has to do with his overall character… you'll see what I mean soon enough!), _Gim _(Thanks and I am honored to know I've changed your mind in relation to this couple. I think that as long as Seph is not portrayed as a complete psycho, they can actually work. I am also happy to know you approve of Rie, who was born –to be honest- out of this fic on her very own), _Sephiroth_Owa13 _(God, I needed that, thanks for the gift of the 'rub down' lol. Also, thanks for the sympathies… migraines should be illegal! I am also glad you enjoyed Teef's and Seph's scene and her little cuddling thing, lol. As to the baddies, I was hoping you enjoyed it the most, since you were the most interested in them –so, glad you did. Thanks for the amazing support!) _

**Edited by:** ...

**~Enjoy** and don't forget to **review**!

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"_The time is now, the place is here. Stay in the present. You can do nothing to change the past, and the future will never come exactly as you plan or hope for."_

_-Dan Millman (The Peaceful Warrior)-_

"**One Winged Angels"**

By: FenixPhoenix

**Chapter 18: "The Puzzle"**

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**Vincent Valentine **moved his head in slow circles in an attempt to uncoil the strained nerves of his neck. It was barely an hour after he'd stepped inside the WRO's temporary base, and he was already suffering an intense headache.

Not long ago, the idea of having AVALANCHE working together in an effort to find Tifa had been a welcomed prospect, a comforting possibility that had brought relief. Unfortunately, it had been short lived and now, he wasn't sure if joining forces with his former companions had been the brightest of solutions.

Perhaps he would have been better off searching for the martial artist on his own?

Granted, the possibility of being attacked was likely, but it would still spare him the constant migraine of having to deal with the group of misfits that were, apparently, given the task of saving the world for a second time.

Where was Cid, anyways?

At least –though some would beg to differ—he was one of the easiest to tolerate. Sure, he cursed and complained most of the time, but he always knew when to be serious and stay collected.

As everyone's attention turned inward in retrospection, the former Turk closed his eyes and briefly surmised everything that had happened so far, in a vain attempt to simplify the complicated story.

_*The first twenty minutes of their reunion had been inanely spent in trying to snap Cloud out of his depressed state, while Barret and Yuffie attempted to beat him to a bloody pulp, with a grinning Reno instigating the mood by cheering the hostile group. _

_It had taken a huge amount of effort to stop everyone from going at each other's throats as the guilt they all shared –perhaps not in equal amounts but in likewise intensity—began to eat at the fragile link that maintained them together. _

_After a while, just when he was entertaining the appealing idea of unleashing a raging Chaos into their midst, Reeve had been able to return some semblance of order. _

_When everyone were as calmed as they could get, he had quickly begun to relay –more like bombard, to be accurate-- the information they had gathered so far. Vincent guessed that he did it in order to focus their attention back on the issue at hand: the attack on Seventh Heaven. _

_It was not until he touched upon Sephiroth's supposed 'reappearance', that Tuesti succeeded in holding everyone's undivided attention. _

_Personal vendettas put aside for the time being, the WRO's leader presented the facts –with evidence too solid to be ignored as mere hearsays of drunken or shocked men—and painted a picture that hinted to something bigger than Tifa's kidnapping and her bar's destruction. _

_Words of the Elder of Cosmo Canyon echoed in his head and made him shiver. A wave of change was coming, bringing some of their worst enemies –their darkest fears, back for payback._

_Were they even prepared for it, though?_

_As he listened, Vincent put it all together in his head. It all started with Tifa, of course. Why? He didn't know… yet. But he was willing to find out. _

_So far, it all pointed to the strong possibility that she may have possessed something that threatened their new enemies. Especially since –unlike red XIII and Cloud-- she had never been injected with Jenova cells, which would have made her an obvious target._

_So she had to have had something else… something extremely important, to be precise. _

_After all, the barmaid had been attacked by two dangerous remnants of Project J. Reeve had even gone as far as to share his theory about Jenova warriors rising from within the heart of the fallen ShinRa. Vincent agreed wholeheartedly, since him and Nanaki –and apparently Cloud too-- had also had their share of trouble with them. _

_Not surprisingly, the two Turks who'd joined them turned grim at the mention of their corporation. Vincent, however, couldn't judge them, for part of the responsibility of the deeds done by former ShinRa also fell on him. _

_If anyone had been doubtful up until this point, then the video they were showed of the two silver-haired warriors was enough evidence of Jenova's unexpected return to make them reconsider._

_To Vincent Valentine, this –all they'd been told so far-- spelled trouble in more than one way. _

_It was common knowledge that SOLDIERs were considered superhumans. Yet, most hadn't even been injected with pure Jenova cells! These new enemies, unfortunately for them, were injected with a good amount of pure cells –if Reeve's speculations were correct--, thus rendering them a threat to behold, an enemy more powerful than SOLDIER ever was._

_To this point, Vincent's own theory had been coming along fine. He agreed with everything Reeve was saying and silently commended him for all his hard work. _

_That was, until he mentioned Sephiroth 'allegedly' saving Tifa. That right there destroyed his entire theory in a blink, Reeve's plummeting with likewise quickness._

_Shock mingled with plain unbelief rendered everyone silent. _

_Naturally, the gunslinger had believed that if Sephiroth was back, then 'he' was the mastermind behind all the recent attacks. The fact that, three years ago, he was working on his cursed reunion theory, trying to gather all the scattered cells of the entity known as Jenova, was too solid a base for their hasty judgment to be readily discarded. _

_And even if, like everyone else, Valentine could have used some more time to process that small piece of input, fate decided that it wasn't going to be. Because when Reeve was finished, and before anyone could ask something else, Yuffie had addressed Aerith._

_Much to Cloud's consternation, the ninja had enquired –voice not void of suspicion-- how it was that she'd been able to come back to life. Since that was something he himself had been wondering, he transferred his attention to the resurrected Cetra and waited for her answer. _

_After some initial vacillation, Aerith confessed what little information she had. And even when her explanation was plain abstract and rather vague, it still became an important part of the puzzle they were trying to assemble. _

_When the supreme Goddess of Gaia and her odd request were brought into light, nevertheless, Vincent's mind was unmercifully assaulted by an exploding pain, which, thus, resulted in his current headache…_

_And undeniable confusion…_

"May I now, Reeve?" A girl with mismatched eyes asked from her seat beside the Organization's leader. If he recalled correctly her name was Rie, another scientist working for the WRO.

The man sighed and a hand shot towards his face, hinting at his tiredness or his irritation, the gunslinger was not sure. It was odd, though, since Reeve rarely lost his patience, but he granted that it shouldn't have been that surprising considering all the stress he'd been under lately.

"Not now, Rie," he said, adding a tingle of warning to his tone which few would have been able to detect. Valentine only did because, as an ex-Turk, he had been trained to identify even the slightest change of tone and successfully interpret it.

When the girl's eyes narrowed in response, he knew she got the hint too. But what he had not expected was for her gaze to turn to him… and _stay_ there.

He frowned with confusion and slight annoyance when he noticed that her eyes were avidly, not staring, but _studying_ him. It made him quite uncomfortable, to be frank.

Needless to say, this quick reaction –or emotional response?—was something instinctive. Taking into account his painful history, it wasn't all that strange that he was unable to change his views of scientists in general, which wasn't always positive.

And even if this girl was an ally, his reaction indicated that this time was no different. She was someone that would always see him as a monster, and not as a human who had been badly wronged. And he, for his part, would never be able to see her as something else than a reminder of how he'd been punished.

The single thought, opposing his indifferent facade, made him feel quite dejected.

After shaking the unwelcomed thoughts and feelings away, he noticed the girl's eyes jumping to the figure of Cloud. She regarded him with the same intensity for a while, before –much to his apprehension-- she locked her gaze with his again.

"Rie…," Reeve's voice continued to warn her and Vincent couldn't help but feel suspicion and –against his better judgment—slight intrigue filling him.

Did whatever she wanted to do or say have something to do with him?

_What's going on, Reeve?_ He found himself enquiring silently.

"Relax, old man," Yuffie said from her perch on the man's other side. "It's not like they can't--."

"Yuffie!" Reeve's eyes were now glaring daggers at the ninja. Increasing his current agitation, the male noticed that his harsh tone had earned him the attention of every single person in the room.

The gunslinger briefly refocused on the young scientist, only to find her… _still_ staring at him. He frowned and crossed his arms in a defensive stance he hope would also make her understand her studying, staring --whatever it was she was doing—wasn't welcomed.

Apparently, either she wasn't good at reading body language, or she was purposely ignoring it, for there was no such luck in that department. The staring, thus, continued undeterred.

"What is it that you want to do, babe?" Reno asked suddenly, sauntering over to the woman and smiling charmingly at her.

Reeve's glare transferred to the redheaded, "Never mind that!" he snapped. Then, he breathed in and out profoundly, before advising, "Rie, focus on your job right now."

The woman's eyebrows arched and she responded with a simple, "I am."

He sighed, "What about the black-bladed knife. Did you manage to find something interesting about that?"

In Vincent's opinion, that was an effortless attempt to divert the girl's mind from the objective she wanted to pursue. The fact that it worked –every time with almost everyone, actually—never ceased to amazed him.

"Interesting or pertinent?" she asked, and Vincent wondered if she enjoyed getting under her boss' skin. Strangely enough, though, her eyes did not display a look of mocking idiocy or witty charm. Instead, she was simply asking a question she believed needed rectification.

How strange…

"Pertinent, then," Reeve decided, idly massaging his temples. The gunslinger could empathize with his pain...

Rie stood, cleared her throat and promptly began her report.

"Yesterday, at exactly four in the morning, a knife with a seven-inches-long, black blade was found within the derbies of a destroyed apartment, five blocks away from Seventh Heaven. During the first examination, I managed to get some unidentified prints off of the hilt. For those who are wondering what that means," she gazed at Yuffie and Barret, "I ran the prints in our database but didn't find a match."

Yuffie scowled at her –taking insult-- while Barret just nodded solemnly in understanding.

Unconcerned, the woman continued, "The relevant information, however, was found upon the second –more meticulous—examination done in the lab.

"Following the procedure decided upon by the WRO's regulation booklet, I disassembled the weapon by removed the hilt from the blade. It was right after this, that I found some dried blood in the metal below it. This indicates that either the wound produced by the knife was deep enough to cover the entire blade or it just ran down the length of it and into the gap of the hilt.

"Furthermore, after running the required tests, I was able to determine that the blood belonged to Sephiroth Cres--"

"Sephiroth! Are you sure?" Cloud interrupted, opening his mouth for the very first time since their reunion. His tone was no longer low and hesitant, instead it was a mixture of anxiousness and unbelief.

What Rie confessed added even more proof to the idea of Sephiroth's return, which in and of itself was troubling. The fact that it was found in the apartment where Tifa had been staying after her bar's destruction, only added more mystery to what was really going on. So far, there was no evidence indicating that the martial artist had been tortured in any way, which gave him at least some sense of peace –weak as that may be.

But could it really be that Sephiroth saved her? Was he protecting her even as they speak?

Rie turned to Cloud and her eyes narrowed slightly, "Unlike all your speculation, science is a reliable source. Plus, _I_ do not make mistakes. The knife was used to injure Sephiroth, that is all I can say."

"By one of them silver haired warriors?" Barret pressed.

"Like I said, I extracted some of the prints found on the hilt, but I got nothing when I run them in the computer, so I cannot say for certain. What I do know, is that the blade was hollow, she turned to Reeve and added in a lower tone, "which is also an interesting fact, Reeve."

The man frowned, ignoring her last comment, "Why would a knife be hollow?"

"Ah, yes," Rie opened up a folder she had placed on the table and scanned some of the papers inside. After a while, she handed him a report, with various charts.

"Jenova cells?" Reeve sounded between interested and skeptical.

Rie shook her head, "Not quite, but close. It was filled with blood _belonging_ to someone who had been injected with Jenova cells. Unlike with the owner of the hair we found, this one must have been injected when he was older –probably ten to twelve years old."

"But what good would the blood be inside a blade?" Vincent prompted. "If anything, wouldn't it serve a better purpose outside?"

"That is correct, which is why there's a trick to the weapon," she turned to Reeve again, "This is where it gets interesting, Reeve, so pay attention." The male sighed tiredly, but nodded his confirmation if only to get her back on topic.

Satisfied, the woman looked at Vincent again and continued, "The hilt had a small switch which, when pressed, made the tip of the blade open up, therefore allowing the blood to pour inside the victim."

"So the blade would be used to… like _taint_ someone, or somethin'?" Reno concluded, but his confusion was evident. Vincent could not blame him, even he was having trouble grasping the enormity of the situation.

"Perhaps… but I do not know how successful it would be," Rie explained. "If Sephiroth –who already has Jenova cells—was indeed 'tainted' with this new blood, the results are impossible to predict. For us to do so, we would need to test it ourselves," when she spoke that last comment, she eyed Cloud unabashedly.

Vincent couldn't help the smirk that stole into his face by her hinted suggestion. Of course, the fact that Cloud was scowling at her, also added to his mirth.

Reeve decided to interject then, before another fight could be started, by adding, "Which, of course, we are _not_ going to do."

Rie shrugged, "It is the most logical course of action, but I will abide by your decision, Reeve."

"But wait! I mean, only a little bit of blood would be spilled inside the wound, right? And sure it's GROSS, but how bad could that possible be…?" Yuffie pointed out with a deep frown.

The scarred female seemed about to respond, but the puppet master beat her to it.

"You know that when someone is given a blood transfusion that is incompatible with his or her own blood, he could die, right?" The woman nodded. By each of her sides, Reno and Barret did too. "Well, with Jenova cells it would be sort of the same, except that, because of the volatile nature of the 'virus', it is impossible to determine how much 'change' even a small amount could produce in someone."

"Dammit! 'Tis getting all complicated again!" Barret complained in his boisterous tone. A curt nod of acknowledgement from Rude showed that maybe he'd been quiet for exactly the same reason.

"So back to what's important," Reno said, "we don't know squat about where Teef's at?"

The silence that ensured was enough of an answer.

"At any rate, where's Cid?" Vincent enquired, knowing full well that he was changing the subject quite briskly, but not caring in the slightest. Truth was, he had been unable to shake that oddity off.

"He should be arriving sometime tomorrow," Reeve said.

"Perhaps it would be best if we can take a break?" Red XIII suggested, looking around at all the confused and anxious faces. Tiredness –more mental than physical-- was evidently taking its toll on almost everyone.

"But we need to find Tifa!" Cloud objected, his eyes showing his naked pain. It was hard to look at him. And it was hard for him to look at them, knowing that they all blamed him.

Vincent was the only one who silently shared his burden.

He had failed her too.

Movement to his right made him snap out of his reflections. He turned to find Rie there… still _staring_.

It was quite unnerving…

"May I help you?" he asked, noticing Reeve's face paling a couple of shades and wondering why. His defenses just went right up, though.

"Can I _please_ take a sample of your blood?" she asked politely.

He blinked then sighed. So, he'd been right, _this_ is what she wanted. Tests. Experiments. People's interest in him derived from his strange appurtenance, didn't it?

_How bad could this be?_ He wondered, surprised that, for some unfathomable reason, he was trying to convince himself of allowing this woman to study him…

To his further astonishment –as well as everyone else's'-- it worked.

In silence, the gunslinger offered his arm for her to take a sample. Ever since he'd come out of Nibelheim's mansion and rejoined society, he hadn't allowed anyone to study or test him –not even Reeve.

He supposed it was due to the strong fear of what he may find. He was afraid of knowing the full extent of his change –of what Hojo had done.

Could he be as much an abnormality –a monster in the inside as he was in the outside?

How many times had he asked that question? How many times had the monsters inside of him not chuckle at his inability to deal with his situation?

Even after so many years, it was hard to accept that he had to share his body with entities that no one but himself was able to understand. And sometimes, even he couldn't get them at all…

But perhaps it was time to find out the extent of his _transformation_. Perhaps knowing would be better than to keep wondering…

His sleeve was drawn back, and Vincent Valentine was taken aback by how gently she worked on him, doing things slowly and without hurry. To find a scientist that would treat him as a human while regarding him partly as an experiment, was something he had never considered possible.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw Reeve relaxing.

_Ah, so he was afraid of my reaction?_ Comprehension drew on him. The man, even when he rarely visited him, was a good friend and he thanked him for that.

"May I also be allowed to study your claw when you have time to spare?" she enquired, still with a formal and polite tone.

He shrugged, unsure. After a while, and noticing she was waiting for his answer, he decided on a, "Maybe."

She nodded her thanks, placing a band aid in the spot where she'd taken out the needle.

After that, to his further interest, she strolled towards the figure of Cloud.

"I need your blood," she said bluntly, getting ready to extract it without even asking for permission. At Cloud's bewildered look, most of the people in the room were seized by laughter.

Still, the swordsman allowed her to do as she pleased. But when she was done, it was Aerith who asked, not angrily, but simply confused.

"Why were you polite to Vincent and not to Cloud, Rie? That wasn't very nice," she chided not quite sternly, for she still had a smile on her face.

Rie turned to her, then to Cloud, then to Reeve, then to Vincent and then back to her.

"I was specifically told that I should treat Vincent Valentine with the utmost care since he is very sensitive ab--"

Reeve, who had stood up when she began her explanation, had successfully shut her up by covering her mouth.

A pause of absolute silence and then…

Reno sniggered and Yuffie fell off her stool while laughing hysterically, making it evident that Reeve's interruption had been too late.

The damage was done.

Crimson, luminescent eyes narrowed dangerously.

_Sensitive, huh?_

Vincent Valentine would just have to show him how _sensitive_ he really was…

"Reeve…," he said, hiding the smirk produced by the older man's squirming behind the collar of his cape. Indeed, the man was definitely in trouble.

**-o0o-**

**Sephiroth Crescent **woke up feeling as he had never before. It was pure, unadulterated bliss.

Masamune had once told him that the day he wished not to sleep instead of not to wake, he would know he had found true happiness. If that was indeed correct, then Sephiroth needed search for his purpose in life no longer.

With a smile that was becoming less rare the more time he spent with the Tifa, he examined his current situation. It was not the first time he had woken to find himself entangled with her. In fact, when they'd shared a bed in the hotel a night ago, he'd been brusquely –but nevertheless pleasantly-- pulled out of his dreams by a cuddling Tifa.

And yet, what had made him practically escape the bed that time, now made him struggle to get up. The fact that they were now 'official' and thus she would not freak out if she were to arouse right now, also added to his laziness in leaving the soft bed.

Yes. He could certainly do this. He could wake to her every day, and he was sure the sentiment of bliss would never be weakened by routine.

Unfortunately, Genesis had plans of his own. So that, when he stepped out of the bathroom, he gave him a wolfish grin and asked how he'd slept.

Sephiroth's response was to place a finger across his lips in sign of silence. He did not wish to wake her up unnecessarily. They were still some hours away from reaching Costa del Sol, after all, so he wanted her to get as much rest as possible. Plus, considering that he'd woken her in the middle of the night, he guessed she was still trying to make up for the loss hours of sleep.

Very carefully, the General untangled his limbs from hers. With hidden unwillingness, he left the bed –the warmth he'd enjoyed in exchange for… something that definitely wasn't worth it, but which was unavoidable at this point in time.

…Genesis' company.

He sighed inwardly, turning to cover Tifa up –for she'd balled when she'd felt him leaving her side—and brushing some of her hair away from her face.

Odin, she looked like a fallen angel right there and then.

"She looks like an angel," Genesis said, almost as if he'd read his mind.

Sephiroth turned to him and his eyes narrowed a fraction. He didn't like the fact that this side of hers was admired by someone other than himself.

"For your sake, _try_ to remember that she is off limits, Genesis," he warned, moving towards where he'd folded his clothes.

The poet only chuckled, waves of hearty amusements rolling off of him. Moving towards the vanity, he began his search for a comb to brush his hair with.

Sephiroth decided to let him off the hook for now, and concentrated in getting ready for the day.

Thus, replacing his baggy pants for the tighter ones of his usual attire, he put on his boots and reached for his coat. He wondered for a second whether to shed the wife beater, but decided against it when he felt Genesis' eyes upon him.

There were parts of him he was still not ready to expose…

Just as he was starting to put on his trench coat, though, the poet stopped him by touching the wound on the back of his shoulder and tracing it with a finger. Unbidden, the muscles of his shoulder blades and back tensed slightly at the startling brush.

"Why haven't you healed this?" he asked in a whisper, his tone filled with puzzlement.

Sephiroth glanced at him over his shoulder, his discomfort hidden professionally. "Naturally, I tried. I don't know the reason why, but I cannot heal it. I only managed to stop it from continuing to bleed."

The memory of how it had burned when Sephiel –the one who had injured him—had been near, was something that was still troubling him. He had decided that, if things continued like this, he would be forced to seek Reeve Tuesti –the only scientist other than Hojo and Hollander who would be able to explain this-- and ask for his help.

The idea wasn't that unwelcomed, though, since this was a battle that he could not win on his own. Like it or not, they would all need to work together in order to even stand a chance against their current foes. Right now, Jenova was the biggest evil of all, and he hoped that the members of AVALANCHE would be able to see it as such and accept his and Genesis' help.

Of course, that was a bit too idealistic. Things in real life never did run smoothly, this time would be no exception. After all, it wasn't easy to forget the fact that he did sought to wipe them all off the face of Gaia –and destroy the entire planet while he was at it.

"Let me try," Genesis offered, bringing his wayward thought back to the topic being discussed.

Though part of him was positive the other male would earn pretty much the same results, he argued that there was really no harm in trying.

So with a shrug he allow it with a, "Be my guest."

After a nod, the poet murmured a cure spell and Sephiroth felt the tendrils of mako energy cooling the wound, but –as expected—it did not close. In fact, there was no change apart from the cool feeling, which was more an effect of the spell than a reaction of the wound.

"How odd…," the other male said, stepping back and allowing him to finish dressing. The silver haired warrior only nodded his acknowledgment, while pulling his leather coat on. "Does it hurt?"

"Only when I'm in close proximity to Sephiel," Sephiroth explained, silently lamenting not bringing the cursed knife with him in order to study it more closely.

Truth was, Tifa had kept him so busy, that inspecting the black-bladed knife had not even crossed his mind until today.

"Sephiel, huh? So he's the one who did this to you?"

"Yes."

"You've lost your edge, it would seem," Genesis teased playfully. It would have been too much to ask for him to let that one slip.

Sephiroth's face turned grim, "I admit their skill surprised me. I wasn't expecting to find _new_ warriors who could keep up with me."

That confession –so honest—quickly sobered the redheaded.

Lost in his thoughts, Genesis ran a hand through his messy hair and sighed. Sephiroth knew what he was thinking. He was probably trying to accept the idea that these new foes were nothing like what they'd face so far. The skills they'd display were so deadly, that to take any of them lightly would certainly mean their downfall.

Which was exactly what he'd been pondering upon –nonstop-- from the moment Tifa had been attacked and he'd tasted the prowess of two of their ranks.

Just how was he supposed to destroy them on his own?

The answer was, he couldn't. He needed help. He needed to unite Gaia's warriors --or rather, help Tifa unite them.

After a while, the redheaded stretched his arms lazily and moved towards the closet.

"Well, I'm starving. Let's go get breakfast. We'll just think about this after that," the poet offered cheerfully, tossing his cloak on and pulling the hood in place.

It always amazed him how quick Genesis' demeanor changed. Yet, truth be told, it was something that he considered an enviable quality…

Turning to the clock, he found it was already ten in the morning.

_Hmph… the man's is right_, he accepted silently. They were indeed in need of nourishment. And knowing that Tifa would be starving when she woke, he was determined to take care of that need for her.

Thus, the General followed the younger male's lead and, glancing one last time at the barmaids' peaceful form, he stepped out and closed the door slowly, so as not to disturb her.

Fortunately, the two ex-SOLDIERs got into no trouble while buying breakfast. If people were curious as to why they were concealing their identity, they did not make a big deal about it.

When they were returning to their quarters, Sephiroth wondered if Tifa was already awake. Now that he thought about it, perhaps he should have written a note telling her where they'd gone…

As soon as they reached their room, Genesis stepped inside first and said, "Oh, Sephiroth it seems that you sleeping beauty is finally awake!"

His smirk became a smile when he heard that. True enough, when he got inside the room, Tifa was sitting on the bed, everything indicating that she had just woken up a short while ago.

Odin, she was truly exquisite… and his.

He smirked at the thought.

"Morning," she said, stifling a yawn and smiling brightly at them. "Where'd you go?"

"To get breakfast," Genesis responded cheerily, taking a seat on the table just as his stomach made it known he should be fed.

Sephiroth, for his part, moved towards the woman who had showed him he still had a heart to feel and give. He sat in the edge of the bed, near the nightstand, and leaned towards her. She was looking so absolutely ravishing, that the need to touch her was simply intensifying to alarming levels.

So, after placing a soft kiss near the corner of her mouth, he whispered in her ear slowly, seductively.

"I like that, you know? You being 'my' sleeping beauty certainly has a nice ring to it."

She chuckled, but did not disagree. By her blush, Sephiroth inferred she liked it too.

He straightened to give her space and took out two boxes from the paper bag he'd been holding.

"Here," he said, handing her the box filled with hot banana pancakes and mashed potatoes.

"Thanks!" she beamed, leaning back on the head of the bed and placing the box in her lap. When her brown eyes swept the contents, her smile widened. "My favorites!"

He nodded in acknowledgement, getting ready to eat his own breakfast.

"We should be arriving shortly at Costa del Sol," Genesis pointed out after a while, gazing at the ocean from the nearby window. In the distance, a small dark blotch, slowly spreading amidst the blue ocean, could be seen.

Tifa frowned, "Oh, yeah!" She turned to Sephiroth and tilted her head, "By the way, where exactly are we going next?"

He closed his eyes. He had been meaning to tell her, but he hadn't had the opportunity. And when he did, he had simply forgotten to mention it.

Mild trepidation invaded him at not really knowing how she would react. This would be the hardest thing for them to face, and he just hoped they would be able to come out of it intact…

He was not ready to lose her. Perhaps now that she had become such an important part of his life, he will never be able to renounce her.

But would he _have_ to?

"Seph…?"

He felt her hand on his shoulder and saw her eyes were filled with concern.

As much as he wanted to, he couldn't lie to her. Nor could he ignore the question that demanded an answer from him.

He sighed in defeat, "We're going to Nibelheim."

Tifa's eyes widened and the fork she had been holding slipped out of her fingers.

"N-Nibelheim…?" she echoed in a trembling whisper.

And how he wished he could take that look of pain away…

**-o0o-**

**Cid Highwind **landed his newest ship –the Shera—onto the harbor of Costa del Sol. As soon as the craft touched ground, he ordered his crew to get the equipment Reeve needed from one of the WRO's facilities that had been established here.

"Damn, that Reeve," he murmured angrily, "usin' me as goddamn delivery service!"

He leaned back on his seat, taking the cigarette he'd placed behind his ear between his lips and lighting it. He took a deep draft of the smoke, already feeling as the nicotine relaxed his jittery nerves.

Ever since the attack on Seventh Heaven, the man had been unable to sleep. He was worried sick about his friend, and couldn't wait to reunite with everyone and be told exactly what was going on.

Fuck!

It annoyed him to no end to know that, while he was here picking things for Reeve, everyone was already discussing what needed to be done!

"Damn it! I should've asked her to come stay with us for a while," he murmured absently, placing his feet atop the controls casually and gazing out the window at the vast blue sky.

The weather –so calm and beautiful—seemed to mock him as it clashed violently with his present mood. For Cid, it should have been thundering, or at the very least raining cats and dogs!

A pair of soft arms circling his neck from behind caught him off guard. He was on his feet immediately, and scowling at the woman who simply smiled back. Once who the intruder was registered, Cid was quick to throw away his cigarette and step on it, moving his hands in order to quickly dissipate the smoke that was still swirling around them.

Only after he'd done that, did he pin her again with his penetrating blue eyes.

"What's with the look?" she asked amused.

He shook his head in irritation and forced her to sit down on the chair he'd just left.

"Goddamit, Shera! You shouldn't be on your feet!" He reminded sternly.

His wife –that beautiful, but oh so stressing wife of his—rolled her eyes, making his narrow in return.

"I'm pregnant, Cid, not an invalid," she informed solemnly, yet her eyes were filled with healthy mirth.

He had to admit she had a point there. But he'll be damn if somethin' happened to his lil' boy because his mom was too stubborn to stay put –like he'd told her a million of fuckin' times!

"I know that!" He retorted, his own body mocking him when his lips –on their own accord—tilted downwards into a childish pout.

She laughed then, and the sound was like music to his ears. Well, it was like a fucking song that, once you hear, you can't stop thinking about. Annoying, hell yes, but also very addictive.

Unable to come up with something witty to say, he only managed to deepen his scowl.

She seemed about to laugh again, but instead she gasp suddenly. Her hands immediately came to rest on her stomach…

And fuck, did he freaked out!

"What's wrong?! Are you in pain? Should I call the doctor!" he was talking a mile per second, probably faster than Yuffie had ever done. "Goddamit I told you—"

Shera's sudden giggle cut him short.

He frowned in confusion.

"The baby's kicking!" she explained grabbing his hand and placing it on her swelling stomach.

All his worry, his anger, his stress left him in a whoosh.

His baby was kickin' and, damn, he was strong as hell!

His booming laughter filled the control room, making everyone of the crew who'd been eves dropping on their dramatic exchange grin.

"That's m'boy right there!" he exclaimed.

And his voice was filled with so much happiness –so much pride, that it brought tears to her eyes.

"The hell's wrong with you now?" he asked with a frown when he noticed her tearful gaze upon him.

She shook her head in mock disappointment, "You just had to ruin the mood, didn't you?"

"What are you fuckin' babblin' about?!"

His heart began beating rapidly again when he noticed her face paling and her eyes widening out of proportions. Her jaw opened and a gasp came out, not quite like the one she'd scared him with before.

"What now?" he asked hesitantly, leaning towards her and fearing what she would say.

Her response, however, was to point at something outside the window. With a deep frown, he turned on his heels and followed her finger.

And he too gaped at what he saw.

"That's… That's…"

He couldn't even say it. It was so… goddamn surreal! His heart drummed faster, his eyes widened, his throat constricted… and he ran like hell to the platform of the ship.

He had to see for himself if what—no, _who_ he'd seen was real.

Because, hell, he'd just seen Tifa Lockhart –his _missing_ friend—alive and in the flesh!

**To be continued…**

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**AN: **So, what do you guys think? Finally managed to get Cid in the story! There's going to finally be some action next chapter! So please, don't forget to **review**. Comments, constructive criticism, advice and requests are all welcomed!

**Fanart: **Also, I've finished another drawing for this fic. This one is a portrait of _**Raphael**_. For those who are interested in seeing what he looks like, you can find the link in my profile (along with the one of Rie). **Winter Banshee (Bibi)** was also kind enough to do a _**Tifa Lockhart**_ drawing and a _**Seph and Teef**_ drawing for this fic. You can also check the link in my profile!

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**Next Drawing should be…? **So, I'm going to be drawing all of my 'evil' characters. Since I already have Raphael, I decided to put it to vote who I should draw next. So please vote for a character. The first one that gets at least four votes, will be the one I'll draw.

For those wondering, here are the names of the other characters: **Castiel **_(redheaded swordsman)_, **Ariel** _(tomb-boy chick with the whip), _**Uriel **_(big guy with the axe), _**Sephiel **_(silver-haired swordsman), _**Oriel** _(steel eyed boy with kumas), _**Zariel** _(physichotic airhead with twin swords) _and **Jezbel **_(voluptuous seductress with the staff). _


	19. Orchestrated Battle

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any of its characters. I am just burrowing them for a while.

**Author's notes: **Okay, I know this took me longer to write. I actually had it done some days ago, but I was unable to update it until today. I just moved to San Francisco (naturally needed some time to settle) to start my master in advertising, ergo why I was unable to connect. Still, I hope this was worth the wait.

**Quick thanks to logged-on readers: **Pyra Sanada, Valentine'sNinja, GodricGryff , CNome, Eva Von Dee, Ghedea, Goopy Sentimentalist, Selendrii, LoveableDimples16, Kairi-loves-Sushi, TornAngelWings and Winter Banshee.

**Quick replies to anonymous readers: **Sephiroth_Owa13 _(Thank you so much for the awesome review! Glad you like how I'm handling the characters. Well, about Cid, I do think this is possible considering that in Dirge of Cerberus, he calls his new ship: "The Shera". So, I figure that if he did that, then that must mean he loves her ;p), _pearlwhite _(Thank you! Glad you like the funny moments. And yeah, you didn't think I had forgotten about that knife wound, did you? Things will get more interesting), _andGaliriol (Thank you very much! Hope this meets the standards of what you were waiting!).

**Edited by:** Sephiroth_owa13

**~Enjoy** and don't forget to **review**!

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"_Emotions are natural… like the passing weather."_

_-Dan Millman (The Peaceful Warrior)_

"**One Winged Angels"**

By: FenixPhoenix

**Chapter 19: "Orchestrated Battle"**

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**Cid Highwind's **heart was beating so fast, that he was surprised he hadn't yet been taken down by a fuckin' heart attack. Still, he kept on running down the steely hallways, through empty rooms and into the chaotic deck.

Without paying any heed to the angry grunts produced by his brusque shoving of people, he jumped out of the airship and…

There she was, just as surprise to see him as he was her.

A tensed pause of absolute stillness followed, before it was finally broken.

"C-Cid!" she exclaimed. Shock slowly gave way to happiness and her lips parted into a brilliant smile he'd thought he'd never get to see again.

Yet something _had_ to be wrong, especially if he considered that slight but definite wave of nervousness that was emanating from her. Yes, that twitching of the upper lip –almost imperceptible —was a dead giveaway.

Now, the most logical assumption was that her nervousness had something –possibly _everything_-- to do with the two shady figures that stood on each of her sides. As if to clarify his theory, a closer look displayed that, unlike Tifa, these men were armed and ready.

The small detail that Tifa did not use arms per se slipped off his mind completely, as he reached for the lance he'd strapped to the back of his belt. A click later, the small steely object transformed into his lengthy –and rather deadly-- Venus Gospel.

After all his restless nights, he'll be damned if he allowed her to get kidnapped again! In fact, he'll make these two morons pay for endangering the future godmother of his son!

"Teef, come on over here and lemme take care of this goddamn mess," he ordered calmly, but fire raged in his blue eyes as he regarded the tallest figure, the one that was closest to his friend and who looked the most formidable.

If he played his cards right, he might be able to give Tifa sufficient time to escape…

"Wait! Cid, it's okay," Tifa assured promptly, raising her palms in a placating manner.

Hell, if he didn't know any better, he would have believed 'he' was the one making her uncomfortable! So because of the impossibility of this alternate explanation, the blond gave her a questioning look that brushed with exasperation.

Unconsciously, Tifa's hands reached for her scarf and she began playing with it before offering, "Cid, they are…," she paused uncertain before finishing, "They are my _friends_."

Cid Highwind frowned and eyed the two hooded men warily.

_Did she just say…friends?_ He asked himself not void of skepticism and a good dose of confusion.

Surely not! It was common knowledge that Teef was nice to people, but come on! She wouldn't consider just _anyone_ her friend!

Who the fuck were these two, to begin with? If they were indeed Tifa's friends, then wouldn't he have met them before? Though, to be honest, he hadn't visited the barmaid lately, had he?

A sense of guilt threatened to fill him right then and there. So Cid shook his head, as if he would be able to push those highly unwelcome feelings out of both his heart and mind with that simple action. Since that was downright impossible, he chose instead to concentrate on other things, veering his mind away from introspection.

"You sure?" He asked guardedly, his eyes piercing the twin, black cloaked sentinels.

Tifa laughed and that was about all the evidence he needed. That laughter –rarely heard so freely—could not be faked, no matter how good an actress she was. Because, though he played the oblivious old fool, he still knew she was a damned outstanding actress when it came down to her own problems.

Sheathing his weapon rather reluctantly, he cracked his neck, cursed the fact that he didn't have a cigarette and sighed.

"The fuck's goin' on then!"

The tallest figure gave a step forward menacingly, but Tifa was quick to appease him by placing a hand on the crook of his arm. It struck Cid as amazing how easily the man allowed himself to be pacified by the shorter brunette, more so considering he seemed capable of doing a lot of damage.

Still, he didn't take it lightly when someone threatened him –never mind that he didn't really get to do it, his intention was still made perfectly clear.

"You got a problem, pal?" The ruffled pilot couldn't help but taunt, the fact that he was unable to look him in the eyes not helping to quell his suspicion. If there was no ulterior motive to their being with Tifa, then why weren't they showing themselves to him?

After all, the allies of my fuckin' allies are my goddamn allies… or somethin' like that, correct?

"I suggest you mind your language when speaking to Tifa."

Hell, that voice sounded awfully familiar…

A short pause and then his brain began flashing numerous red flags. A _lot_ of them.

_That voice!_

Realization hit him like a bucket of cold water –or rather, like a fuckin' hammer made of bloody rock!

The pilot's blue eyes widened and, instinctively, he reached for his weapon again, muscles already tensing in preparation for the fight. Before his hand could close around the hilt, however, Tifa walked up to him and stopped him by grabbing both his hands in hers.

He resisted almost violently for a second, but her eyes –those chocolate eyes of her—stole his resolve; that in combination with her fuckin' strength, of course. But why was she so fuckin' calm 'bout all this! Worst, why the hell was she stopping him?

Did she hit her head and developed selective fuckin' amnesia!?

"Tifa, he's--."

"I know," she said, her eyes pretty much pleading him to trust her.

And by Odin's ass, those eyes he could never resist! It was the same goddamn puppy-look that Shera gave him whenever she wanted something. Though it irritated the hell out of him –a thing he was not even going to try to hide now-- he knew, deep down, that he was ultimately _beaten_.

Those puppy eyes he could _never_ say no to. Hell, Shiva knew he'd tried a bunch of time only to fail miserably, and his pride could only take so much...

Thus, hesitant about what was going on but still willing to trust his friend, he sighed in bitter defeat and, grudgingly, led the way into his aircraft.

He had to be out of his fuckin' mind to allow the asshole who they'd struggle to eradicate three years ago into his ship. Worst, he'd practically extended a god-damned invitation.

If he'd thought things were strange before, now he was positive things were simply _mad_! Maybe he was dreaming…?

"Shit! Fuckin' piece of crap layin' 'round!" he mumbled under his breath when his foot caught in a heavy box he hadn't seen. The pain only served to sour his mood even further, for now he was beyond certain that he was _not_ sleeping.

Fate had a way to burst his bubble that was plain fuckin' evil!

The short trek continued on in silence after that, tension binding them together as people parted to let the fuming blond and his party through unopposed. Once they got into his quarters, he turned around and glared daggers at the three recently arrived.

He opened his mouth and was about to demand an explanation when, to increase his current dismay and annoyance, Shera came through the door. And, of course, hell broke loose when Tifa and his wife burst into squeals, hugs and fuckin' kisses. Brief news flashes were exchanged between the two women in record time, which none of the men –he was sure he was not alone in this—were able to follow.

A now tempestuous Cid, waiting to be noticed by at least his spouse, zeroed on her and tried out his coldest, cruelest, evilest glare. Now, something was not right because when Shera spared a glance at him, the wicked female _smiled_! She didn't frown, she didn't glare back, she didn't gave him a sheepish look. No! The woman smiled!

Surely, surely these two sprites were messing with his fuckin' head!

But still, the least he wanted –and needed—was to have his family inside a room with a murderer. In fact, fuck what Tifa said, he was not ready to trust this son of a bitch –literally-- with the weakest and strongest parts of his life. Yes, his family was both, a weakness that his enemies could attack, and, at the same time, they were the very source of his strength, for he would do _everything_ to protect them from harm.

"Shera! Go get us some goddamn tea or somethin'!" the blond ordered but, to his further annoyance, the frustrating woman did not cede.

He grunted irritably below his breath, wondering why it was him the one that always ended up giving in. It was then that he recalled that –as experience had taught him-- when his mate made her mind, no amount of convincing –or tantrums he threw—would move her. And he would be damned if he would ever throw a tantrum in front of these two pricks.

Still, crossing his arms and yielding to the inevitable, he turned his hard gaze to the two quietly standing figures, intent on beating around the bush no longer.

"Okay, y'allbetter have a fu—a _good _explanation for what's goin' on," he said, realizing that –until he was sure the damned ex-SOLDIER wasn't going to turn all psycho on them—it was best to mind his manners while speaking. If that made the bastard happy, then so be it!

To his surprise, the powerful figure stood forward and –with a small shrug—pulled down his hood. It took Cid a lot to keep from gasping like a goddamn school girl when his fears were confirmed.

_Well, I'll be damned, it really is the bloody bastard!_

Quickly, professionally and quite calmly, Sephiroth Crescent began his story and, though he tried not to, the pilot could not help but be drawn into it, until he'd all but forgotten who he was really dealing with.

Because this story did not describe a monster or a madman, but a human caught in the middle of a titans' struggle. A human who was pushed to the limit and who, as a result, inevitably broke down.

Before long, Cid found himself looking not at Sephiroth the monster, but at Sephiroth the man --the man who was searching for vengeance, but above that, for redemption and forgiveness. The man that was deemed a hero before Jenova danced its way into the bloody picture.

Still, so much pain, so much destruction, so much fear could not be simply pushed aside, no matter how good the reason was. It was a human condition –unavoidable because of its primitive nature—to hold grudges and be suspicious of those who did you harm in the past.

Three years later and Cid was still trying to forgive ShinRa, to wipe out of his mind the idea that the Turks were bad and should be kept at arm's length. So how was he to deal with this new eventuality?

How was he supposed to ignore all the past, when it was practically carved in the characters –the persona of all the members of fuckin' AVALANCHE? It was what brought them together and, in an ironic twist of fate, what pushed them apart.

Had they not defeated Sephiroth and Jenova, perhaps they would all still be together…

On the other hand, the swordsman they'd learn to hate seemed like a completely different person. Would the Sephiroth of the past risk his life to save Tifa? Or rather, would the man who _submitted_ to Jenova put his life on the line for anyone other than that entity?

The answer, without a doubt, was no. He would not.

So what the hell did this mean? What the fuck was he supposed to do now?

Just then the alarms of the airship began screaming in alert. It was only then that the pilot noticed that his second in command must have been piloting the ship, because they were airborne and, if the red lights and loud wails were any indication, they were currently under attack.

"We'll take care of this," Sephiroth said, signaling the other figure –who he'd learn was another ex-SOLDIER said to have been killed in action—to follow.

Deciding to use this time to his advantage, he turned to Tifa –intent on giving her a lecture—when he noticed something that made him pale probably around five shades.

"Fuck, Teef," he whispered, turning to his wife in search of confirmation to what was clearly slapping –no, _punching_ him square on the face.

A nod. A slow nod from Shera, and fuck, things were now much more complicated than before.

Tifa turned to him, unable to hide her expression of deep concern and of…

"You love him, don't you, dear?" Shera said, placing a hand on her shoulder and squeezing in reassurance.

"Don't be speaking fuckin' nonsense, Shera!" Cid exclaimed, not wanting to accept something that he could not understand, perhaps he never would. But hell, could he be blamed? This was fuckin' unnatural!

The martial artist, however, closed her eyes in sweet resignation and just nodded.

Fucking nods of hell!

"Shit," was all he could say about the situation, as he brushed his face with his hands a couple of times, as though to clear the invisible sweat that was coating his skin.

_Shit. Shit. Shit. SHIT! _

Perhaps Cloud leaving her had wounded her beyond his predictions, for why else would she possibly search for affection in the icicle that was Sephiroth Crescent?

"I-I need to go to him," she said suddenly, desperation ringing in her tone as she placed a hand on the spot above her heart. "Something's wrong, I-I can feel it!"

The pilot sighed theatrically and locked his jaw as overwhelming stress wrapped around him.

Fuck it! He could never say no to Teef! She was like his little sister, and she was goin' to be his son's godmother –never mind that she was dating a reformed madman.

"Les' go then," he suggested and turning to his wife he added in a steely tone, "You. _Stay_."

Shera nodded curtly and placed a hand on her stomach, deep concern flashing in her eyes. Damn those eyes. It was when he gazed at them, that he remembered why he was the one to always give in.

Closing the distance between them, he pecked her lips quickly, gruffly and placed a hand on her stomach, feeling his boy kickin' as though he was aware that his father was goin' to kick some god-damned ass!

A small smirk stole into his features, filled with absolute pride and devotion. He turned back to his spouse, nodded once and signaled Tifa to follow him.

"Keep him out of trouble, Teef!" Shera told Tifa before they were out the door.

Cid rolled his eyes and grunted loudly, "I'll be the one keepin' this one out of trouble, I tell you!"

That established, he led the way with the brunette following close on his heels. And as they made their way across the ship, the pilot could not stop thinking about all he'd learned in such a short amount of time.

Damn it, not in a million years would he have believed he would ever hear Tifa being concerned for the same man who killed her family and destroyed her whole town!

The fuckin' world was goin' god-damned crazy! And considering he was just about to help said asshole, he was no exception.

**-o0o-**

**Sephiel** sat up abruptly, prompted by what he'd felt in combination with the sudden urge to cough. His throat ached and, only when he covered his mouth with his hand, did he realize that he was coughing up blood.

For a long while, he just started at his hand grimly, knowing that had he stayed in that state of deep concentration a minute more, his Jenova cells would have overwhelmed his entire system. It was by sheer luck –or maybe it was his mother looking out for him?—that he'd found what --who he was looking for in time to stop the cells before they prayed on his internal organs.

Still, the risk was worth the information he'd gained. Sephiroth Crescent was near, which meant that Tifa Lockhart was also in the vicinity. In fact, they were closer than they'd thought and the opportunity to meet with them was becoming too tempting to ignore.

Thus, despite the pain in his chest, Sephiel smiled, got up from his lying spot on the white sand, and strolled towards the small lake nearby. A waterfall could be seen in the distance, the sound of its flow calming his drumming heart.

He knelt and plunged his hands on the crystalline water, mesmerized by how it was painted red with his blood. When his hands were clean, he cupped them to bring some water to his aching throat.

He drank to his heart's content, wishing for his thirst to be quenched, even when he was well aware that he thirsted for something that had nothing to do with water. Needless to say, the cold liquid still felt blissful as it wiped away the burning sensation in his throat and the rusty taste in his tongue.

When he was satisfied, he stood up, intent on beginning his journey towards his kin's greatest enemies --to prove to his brothers and sisters that he too was a force to behold-- when a voice coming from behind him stopped him dead on his tracks.

"You found them?"

He closed his eyes for a second, tasting the sound of her voice. It was her for whom he thirsted. It was her whom his body ached to touch.

"How long have you been watching?" He asked, part of him hoping that she hadn't seen his moment of weakness, while the other one eagerly wished to know if she was concerned for his well being.

"Long enough to know what you're going to do," she replied cryptically.

He fought the urge to turn back and gaze at her, knowing that if he did, he would be at her mercy. Did she really not know? Was she really so oblivious to his affection?

Damn Castiel for holding her heart so lightly, when he would hold it so dearly where he in his place…

"I want to come, Sephiel."

The request was whispered –almost purred in his ear and he closed his eyes again and shivered slightly. She had him wrapped around her finger, and he could do absolutely nothing about it –at any rate, he didn't know if he even wanted to.

The question was, did she know about this and was taking advantage?

For the sake of his already broken heart, he chose to think that she had no idea. It was less probable, yes, but it was also less painful.

"Jezbel," the word –the name escaped his lips unbidden. It was spoken softly, with the devotion he could not hide, and it slid down his tongue like a bittersweet syrup. "It's too dangerous."

Her small hand grabbed a hold of his muscled arm. She whirled him around to face her, and he was all too happy to comply. He always was.

She smiled seductively and with smoldering hazel eyes, she countered, "But you'll protect me, won't you?"

From out of the pieces of his fractured heart, she drew his most solemn promise –his most secret vow, "Always… I'll always protect you, Jezbel."

It was a whispered prayer of raw, sweet devotion.

She stared –eyes slightly widened-- and then smiled at him again. But it was different sort of smile. It held confusion and surprise, and something else which he couldn't identify, but which he did not dislike.

"Let's go, then," she said after an awkward pause, breaking the eye contact and retrieving the spell he'd been under.

He nodded, recovering some semblance of control and, turning away from her –else he should be lost inside her eyes again—he led the way.

**-o0o-**

**Sephiroth Crescent **stepped out into the deck of the ship. Flying around the craft were a vast number of monsters, ranging from the enormous Blue and Black Dragons to poisonous Harpies and feathery Tonadus.

"Well, this looks like fun," Genesis chirped as he stopped beside him and gazed at the flying beasts that were bumping into the airship in a –hopefully vain-- attempt to bring it down.

"Hmph, we better take them out quickly," the General suggested, after surveying some of the visual damage the craft had sustained. If things continued this way, then the ship would be forced to land, and crew members would become even more vulnerable than they already were.

The poet stretched his arms lazily, cracked his finger and, turning to him, said in his most sober voice, "I bet I can kill more than you, hero."

He sighed and fought the urge to biff him on the back of the head, "And here I thought you'd actually grown in our time apart."

Genesis' amused smile became cocky, "Are you accepting that you can't keep up with me anymore?"

Sephiroth smirked. He'd once admitted that Genesis had an uncanny ability to interpret Loveless in such a way, as to fit his needs. Now, he realized that the man had the skill to twist _every_ word to his advantage.

Still, a challenge was a challenge, and he was not prone to left one unanswered.

"You may regret this soon, Genesis," he told the younger male, his voice both playful and serious at the same time. A deed that, according to Angel, only he could pull.

"Alright!" With one smooth movement, the redheaded was armed and ready. Sephiroth followed his lead with far less outward enthusiasm, but with the same elegance. "On the count of three."

"Fine."

Genesis nodded --his eyes glinting, displaying the happiness of a child who'd been given his favorite candy-- and began the countdown.

"Three…," a dramatic pause, "two…," muscles tensing in anticipation, "one…"

And off they went, running and then soaring through the sky in different directions. One unarguably good thing about being born with Jenova cells, was that it gave them the ability to fly, which was necessary considering that their current adversaries were all airborne.

Nevertheless, Sephiroth was acutely aware that they needed to maintain the usage of their cells to a minimum, more so if Jenova's warriors were nearby. After all, they wouldn't want them to crash their party, would they?

Keeping that warning in the forefront of his mind, he plunged confidently into a small group of beasts. The first monster the General dispatched was a wailing harpy. He did it with ease, a single cut severing the beast's neck. As soon as he'd done that, however, he heard Genesis yelling from somewhere to his right.

"ONE!"

Sephiroth's eye twitched when he realized what the number meant. Was the stupid man about to start counting out loud? Could he not do it in his head?

"TWO!"

Apparently he couldn't.

The older male sighed in defeat and, ignoring the poet's voice as best he could, he continued with his own carnage. Despite his annoyance, a small, cocky smile stole into his features. Genesis had just yelled his fifth number, but Sephiroth was already killing his seventh.

He was winning, no surprises there.

Things continued like this for a short while, until a very familiar sound pierced through the orchestra of grunts, wails, roars and clashes. It was a sound that was both, very fitting but very random.

_*Noli manere, manare in memoria _

_Noli manere, manare in memoria _

_Sephiroth, Sephiroth…*_

"Hmmm?" Confused, Sephiroth turned around in midair, immediately zeroing on the source of the sound.

A cellphone.

The potty mouthed pilot's cellphone, to be precise, was playing a song that his fans had dedicated to him a long time ago. The same song that ShinRa's troopers under his command would always play whenever he entered the battlefield.

According to the high executives, the song helped lowered the moral of the enemy, while rising the moral of his allies. And why not? After all, he was a prodigy of strategy, a bearer of strength, wasn't he?

Every fight he'd waged, he'd won. Everyone but one… the most important one, at that. Jenova had undeniably beaten him, yet Sephiroth vowed that he was going to pay her back in full.

*_Saevam iram, iram et dolorem _

_Saevam iram, iram et dolorem_

_Sephiroth, Sephiroth…*_

Sephiroth's lips quirked upwards when, having dispatched another monster, he noticed Genesis' annoyed expression. When the poet transferred his glare from the pilot to him, the General just shrugged nonchalantly.

Well, why would he be blamed for something he had no control over? Hell, he was surprised that the hostile male would even _have_ the song to begin with!

Suddenly, another sound --lovelier than his song, which, to be perfectly frank, he actually liked—stole his attention. He removed his gaze from the ex-SOLDIER and moved it to the source of that beautiful laughter almost in a trance.

It was Tifa. _His_ Tifa.

The beautiful minx was standing beside the blond, holding her stomach as fits of laughter erupted past her lips. The pilot was trying to keep her from continuing to laugh as he explained something gruffly.

As he kept his luminescent gaze on her, Sephiroth found himself ruthlessly torn in different directions. Part of him was happy to see her –like he always was—and wished to show off his skill. The other part, however, was profoundly worried.

What if something happened to her? After all, this attack was not random. It was way too coordinate for it to be a coincidence. Monsters that should be killing each other were working together to bring them down, which, of course, meant that Jenova knew where they were and she was…what?

_She's_ _stalling_!

His mood turned grimmer at the thought of this being only the first wave of an elaborate attack. Perhaps it would be better if he at least sent her inside?

_She won't like that, though,_ the voice of reason stated. And that voice was, unfortunately for him, correct. Most likely Tifa would take it as an insult if he were to treat her like a damsel in distress when she was quite capable –as everyone knew, including him, or maybe especially him—of holding her ground.

But she was too precious to even consider risking…

A wail to his immediate left brought him out of his reflections and it was by sheer reflex that he managed to move out of the way of a Dragon's sharp claws before they tattooed his chest with his own blood. Calling forth his magic, the General sent a strong bolt of lightning in the Dragon's direction. The beast was push back, one of its wings charred and becoming unusable. Before long, the beast was plummeting out of the sky like a flaring shard of what used to be a meteor.

Wishing to make sure Tifa was alright, he turned back to her. Cid was talking and, instinctively, Sephiroth read his lips in search for the reason of why they had not stayed inside the ship.

What he had not counted on, was to learn of something even more random.

_It's a damn catchy song, 'kay! An' I figure it suited the fuckin' situation._

The General shook his head amused by the man's antics. If only he could control his language when speaking to Tifa, he was sure he could get to genuinely like him.

Suddenly, the monsters that had been attacking relentlessly, cede to the obvious and began to scamp away. A growing sense of impending doom began to spread its tendril within Sephiroth's heart, but before he could grasp it better, he was distracted.

"Thirty seven," Genesis said proudly, approaching him from his right, his rapier coated red. "Why weren't you counting out loud? I won, didn't I?"

Had it been his style, Sephiroth would have snorted. Instead, he just raised his inquisitive eyebrow and was about to inform him of his higher number when pain…

Hot, razor sharp pain shot through his entire system, laying siege and threatening to take him hostage if it continued undiminished.

Clenching his jaw, he tried to ride the pain –to control it or push it aside, but it was already wrapping around him like a chain of thorns. It was a pain the likes he'd _rarely_ felt before. In fact, it was strikingly similar to the one he'd felt when—

"Sephiel!" he uttered in a pain-filled whisper. As if by acknowledging that, the fire inside of him was fueled, the pain increased tenfold. This resulted in his concentration slipping as raw pain clogged his mind, plunging it in a stream of steaming, thick lava.

Unbidden, his body tensed in absolute shock, becoming stiff and paler.

"What's wrong?" Genesis' voice was concerned and surprised, and he wondered if he looked as bad as he felt.

His Jenova cells were going crazy inside his body, and he found himself struggling for control –trying to keep the entity at bay with the power of his own mind. All his strength, all his attention, he turned inward and, therefore, before long he found himself falling out of the sky.

Powerful arms held him, however, and he knew that Genesis had caught him and was now lowering him to the ground.

The pain increased, confusion settled and panic threatened to kiss him. Red and white spots began to assault his now blurry vision and he knew. He just knew that the second wave was coming…

And, despite it all, Sephiroth was well aware of who the one coming was, and cursed his bad, bad luck.

He had to move. He had to try to cope with the pain in order to fight him or else… else…

"Tifa," he whispered.

**To be continued…**

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**AN: **Please do not forget to **review**. There are a lot of people who are reading this and less than a quarter of you are reviewing. I bid you to change your minds and let me know what you think of this so far.

**Illustrations:** Also, you can now find the drawings of _Sephiel, Castiel_ and _Jezbel_ in my deviantart. The links are provided in my profile page. ~Cheers!


	20. Guardian Angels

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any of its characters. I am just burrowing them for a while.

**Author's notes: **I am so sorry for taking so long to update, I have started my master degree and it has been crazy. I will try to update sooner, but I cannot make any promises. It all depends on how much free time I have. Anyways, thank you very much for all of those who have send me messages in DA and e-mails, I truly appreciate the support! You guys rock! ~**Enjoy!**

**Quick thanks to logged-on readers: **Goopy Sentimentalist, Razzika, Ghedea, CNome, Eva Von Dee, Kitsune6, LoveableDimples16, Kittencharmer, Selendrii, ThePhantomOfTheCarolinaOpry, ObsidianPhantom, Michimoro, Slyefoxfury, Tsukia13, Dhampire12 , and Krho.

**Quick replies to anonymous readers: **Caterina Beryl _(Thanks! Glad you enjoyed that!)_, an-oh-nymus _(It's always fun to write Cid, glad you enjoyed him!), _Indi2 _(I am always happy to know I have made people like or accept this pairing. With the write plot, they can surely work. Glad you are enjoying it!), _Sephiroth_Owa13 _(Thank you very much for all the support!), _Shanrock _(Well, you'll soon get to know how Cloud will react. Thank you so much for the review. Glad you are liking it so far!), _pearlwhite _(I must say I am enjoying writing everyone, but Cid and Genesis were my main concern. I am glad to learn that people are enjoying them!), _Pandora Lockhart _(Thank you very much! Glad to know you like my SephyTeef relationship so far. I think Tifa deserves a lot of love!), _E _(No problem, as long as you are enjoying it, I am happy. Thanks!), _Helen _(Thank you! Glad you are enjoying it and that you approve of how I have handled the plot. I had to do a lot of research!),_ andGaliriol _(Sorry about that, lol. Enjoy!)_

**Edited by:**_ Sephiroth_OWA_13_

**Typos pointed out by**:_ Goopy Sentimentalist _and_ Ex Oxide._

**~Enjoy** and don't forget to **review**!

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"_There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness."_

_-Friedrich Nietzche-_

"**One Winged Angels"**

By: FenixPhoenix

**Chapter 20: "Guardian Angels"**

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**Tifa Lockhart**'s eyes widened when she noticed the figure of Sephiroth falling from the sky, no visual injury sustained and yet, even from a distance, she could tell he was in deep pain. Thankfully, Genesis was nearby when it happened and he was able to catch him before he crashed onto the ground.

Slowly, almost gently –belying the fact that he didn't care about the older SOLDIER—the poet lowered Sephiroth to the ground, his brow marred by worry that could easily rival her own.

It took her a few more precious seconds of inactivity, before Tifa was able to snap out of her stupor. Losing no more time, she ran towards them, her heart hammering inside her ribcage making her limbs tremble with the beginnings of fright. There was only one thing –one _being _that could bring the great warrior to his knees…

_Jenova_.

As soon as she knelt beside her pale lover, Tifa felt her. Yes. It was eerie how she could _feel_ and simply _know _–without a shadow of a doubt- that it was her. Yet, that was not her first concern. Far from it, her entire attention was centered on Sephiroth and on the fact that he was in _pain_.

Her fear increased when her mind chose that precise moment to remind her of how Jenova had broken the General before, and what he'd done soon after that. _No! Shiva, no! _She yelled furiously inside her head, the sound a wail of frustration and fright that was externalized only by the tears forming in her eyes. She could not permit that to happen again! He was too important to her! He was fighting to redeem himself, his past, his name… and so help her Odin, she would not let him slip back into the dark abyss that was Jenova!

"Sephiroth!" Desperation tainted her voice but did not overpower the strength of it. "You can't allow her -_it_ to win!" She grabbed on to him like a leech, hugging his upper body and wishing she could lend him her strength through mere physical contact. Closing her eyes tightly, Tifa tried to keep her building sobs from shaking her from the inside out. She needed to stay strong for him! She needed to be his pillar, firm and unwavering against the crushing storm that was whipping him!

As her hold tightened around his trembling body, her hand pressed upon the back of his shoulder and he groaned in pain. The sound –so different from his incoherent mumblings of her name- prompted her to inspect the tender spot only to find blood. It looked thick and rusty, and the color was so dark it made her think of poison more than anything. A wave of intense trepidation stole into her heart and Tifa pressed her fingers to the wound again. As soon as she did, understanding drew upon her and every hair on her body stood on end.

Jenova was _inside_ of him.

The entity wiggled free of Tifa's grasp and, like a serpent getting ready to attack, it remained still for a moment. Then, before she could prepare her defenses, Jenova sent a wave of energy that repulsed Tifa. It was almost as if she had been electrocuted by the blood itself, and the unexpected action managed to push her out of sync with Sephiroth.

For a while, Tifa was stunned, her sense of direction completely lost. But her fear and courage –as inconsistent as it was—promptly brought her senses back under control. Making a rushed decision, she locked her jaw and glared, as if by doing that she would be able to see the face of the General's greatest nightmare. Then, driven by pure instinct, she pressed her fingers to Sephiroth's wound and, slowly but surely, she began to pull the entity out of him. It was curiously simple –and yet tiring at the same time- how her hand was able to absorb the tainted blood as if her tips were vacuuming ink.

_Get away from him, you bitch!_ She seethed inside her mind, thrusting the demand into the entity that had created a connection with her when she had tried to push her away. As soon as her words left her mind and the virus was pulled out of him, everything around her went inevitably black.

**-o0o-**

**Sephiroth Crescent **found himself locked inside the vastness of his own mind, waging a war with the entity that knew his most secret fears, his most sinful desires, his most fragile hopes...

This was his second battle against Jenova, and it was a dangerous one because he was well aware that the prize for the one victorious was not fame or territory, but his very _soul_. The minute he felt her, the General had found himself standing before the figure that had played him like a marionette not that long ago. He pressed his lips together into a grim line and glared at the metallic body of the woman that represented Jenova in his mind. For him, she was still held together by the same cage he'd once thought belonged to the lost Cetra. How very naïve of him to have believed her lies so easily… But that was the past, and this was the present and he would be damned if he allowed her to be in his future again.

"You can't fight me, child," her voice was a whisper of grinding metal, both seductive and dangerous to the ear; yet the mocking tingle did not go unnoticed.

Sephiroth cracked his neck and was about to reply, when pain ripped through him in an overwhelming wave that shamefully brought him to his knees. His hand gripped at his shoulder tightly, wishing he could hack at the limb in order to stop the pain that threatened to blind him.

"Damn it!" he said under his breath, trying to veer his attention away from the pain. But how was he to do that when there was nothing to distract him? His lips quirked into a mirthless smile as he considered his situation through the haze that was becoming thicker as the seconds tickled by. Was he really this weak? Was his destiny set in an unchangeable rout that ended in Jenova? Was he fated to submit to her again, even if this time it was against his wishes? As if to remind him of the consequences of what would happen if he allowed Jenova's mind games of doubts to cloud his judgment, he heard Tifa's voice asking –no, _demanding_ that he did not give up.

The sound of her voice brought either some comfort to his aching body or some power to his striving soul, because suddenly he found himself once again believing that he could do it. And it hit him right then and there, as her voice continued to echo around him, why he was now able to regain his feet and stand at the ready for the battle ahead. Before now, Sephiroth had always fought alone –even if he had an army at his back, waiting for his orders. Genesis and Angeal –perhaps the only two he would have turn to for support—had joined the ranks of his opponents when Sephiroth had found out about Jenova. Hell, Genesis had been the one to deliver the well aimed blow, the only punch that had crippled him to the point of losing his mind. Now, however, he was not alone. Now he had Tifa, a woman who –even after all the pain he had caused her—had forgiven him and presently stood by him in both mind and spirit. Helping him by simply being there, pushing him forward and reminding him that she had him covered, that she _believed_ in him. It was the most exhilarating feeling he'd ever felt, ranking in the top with his training with Masamune.

He smirked at the figure that seconds ago had represented his downfall. It was so blindingly clear now. This, this _feeling_ right here was the key to Cloud's power! It was not that the Jenova cells were stronger in him, but that the swordsman had fought with the support of his friends, knowing that their lives depended on him winning. This time, Sephiroth felt the same. Tifa was in grave peril and he –as her self-appointed guardian- could not allow himself to lose, not as long as she was out there, waiting for him to come back. As this blissful feeling of being wanted intensified, it provided a barrier of hope and utter relief that seemed unshakable. Slowly but surely, it began to decrease the presence of Jenova that had squeezed his heart moments before.

The entity, however, must have seen –maybe even felt- the change in him, because suddenly that soothing presence that was Tifa was gone. Coldness seeped inside him and, like a claw, it enveloped him in an instant. As the grip tightened around him, the wound on his shoulder was set on fire again, making his body shake as his senses began to cloud under heavy thoughts and biting pain. He locked his jaw automatically and grunted, trying to grasp that feeling that was Tifa again.

The steely figure took a step towards him, and, to his disappointment, he felt Tifa's presence being chased away from his fragile grip. Another step and he came to the horrible conclusion that the closest Jenova came, the more the pain increased until raw panic threatened to show its ugly face. Never in his life had the most powerful General of ShinRa felt as scared as he felt now. It wasn't just fright for what would become of him. It wasn't the idea of becoming a moving carcass what iced his blood, but the fact that if he lost… he would never get _Tifa_ back. If he allowed Jenova to control him, she would never forgive him. Worst, he could hurt her again, a thing that –even as he thought about it—was close to unbearable. But this ugly panic begged the question, where was Tifa? Had something happened to her? Had he lost her? Or had she decided to _desert_ him at last?

The questions piled and the doubts increased as Jenova etched her presence deeper into his being. He felt himself surrounded by hundreds of all too familiar dark feelings. They whirled around him with the force of an unstoppable tornado, chaotic and dooming as they began to squeeze all that was positive out of him. The various bottles of past feelings were set loose and he could not decide whether to feel hurt, lost, angry or just numb.

"Stop!" He demanded as his sanity began to drain out of his mind, heart, soul! Shiva, he had to fight! But as much as he wanted to, as much as he tried, he was frozen in place by pain if nothing else. And the entity -that poisonous virus still came forward with the power of a silver tsunami. Sephiroth closed his eyes, the last drops of hope about to be spilled out of his heart… But suddenly, as powerful and quick as lightning, she was there.

Tifa was back!

His eyes opened and he snapped up the head he had bowed only to take in the image of her bathed in a shower of gold. After witnessing this heavenly creature, how could anyone possibly dare call him an angel? His eyes drank her from the crown of her hair to the soles of her feet. Tifa stood there in all her glory, a shield against the dark storm of Jenova's presence, and he was left speechless by her strength and unfaltering courage.

"Get away from him, you bitch!" She snarled, her very presence lifting the pain that had driven him to his knees and to the brink of insanity.

Sephiroth half-consciously latched himself to the sound of her voice, drinking her words as if he was standing in the middle of a desert about to pass out from dehydration. The more she extended her presence inside of him, the more his hope was renewed and his will to live and fight for her fueled. Until he regained his feet –his head held high—and without hesitating any longer, Sephiroth materialized his Masamune so that he was now armed and ready to defend the woman that had saved him.

Yet, just as he gave one step towards her –his blood boiling at the single thought of Jenova daring to harm, to _touch_ Tifa—he felt a powerful wind coming out of Tifa's body, pushing him back. He crossed his arms in front of him and tried to regain his balance on the slippery ground, but it was a fruitless attempt against something that seemed inevitable. He cursed and call to her, fighting all the time, but she only turned to him to smile.

After she'd done that, he found himself opening his eyes to a chaotic reality of a new fight. He propped himself up just as Tifa crumbled onto his lap. He pulled her to him, avidly searching for wounds even when he knew what had happened. She had absorbed Jenova into her; her darken hand was all the evidence he needed to back up his theory.

"Tifa!" he said with a sense of urgency, silently cursing the fact that –for the first time in his life—he was the one that had been saved… and feeling the _burden_ of that truth land on his aching shoulders. A yell somewhere to his right and his senses suddenly went on high alert. His head snapped up painfully, just in time to see an angel of death coming their way, his sword held downwards as he dived from the skies, his intention evident. An image from his past flashed before his eyes and he knew –oh, he knew just what could happen… and he could not, _would_ not allow it!

**-o0o-**

**Sephiel **swept with attentive green-hazel eyes, the beautiful ship that currently hosted their enemies. The quick scan exhibited that his plan had worked marvelously because Sephiroth was presently knocked out cold. Beside him was Tifa, his main target, awfully vulnerable to an attack as she fretted over the fallen soldier like an insane chocobo.

He turned his head halfway to his right to look at his small team through the corner of his eye. Seeing that Genesis had joined Sephiroth's party, he was thankful he had taken the precaution of 'asking' Oriel to tag along. The Gods knew that the kid cared enough about Jezbel as to try to protect her –even if he did it in an unconscious level.

"Oriel, take Genesis out." He ordered. The boy switched his attention to him and stared with that empty gaze that somewhat unnerved him, though Sephiel would be a fool to admit it. Slowly, as if the part of his mind that was in charge of processing commands had been damaged after his fight with the other ex-Avalanchers, Oriel nodded and turned his steely eyes on his appointed target.

For a second, Sephiel contemplated the idea of changing his order and asking Oriel to take Jezbel away. However, as much as it pained him to acknowledge it, he wasn't sure he would be able to deal with Genesis and the pilot on his own. And this mission –this _opportunity_ was too important to risk! He shook his head, shedding those doubts and fears out of both his heart and mind. He needed to stay focus on what was important! _But that's the problem, isn't it?_ A voice inside his head taunted, but Sephiel was quick to shove it away too… for now.

"Jezbel…" He hesitated for a second longer than he should have, "You distract the pilot. I'll help you get rid of him after I dispatch our main targets."

The brunette snorted ungracefully, brushing his words aside with a smirk and a sharp wave of her hand. "Please! As if I would need any help to deal with this fly."

Before he could demand that she not underestimate her opponent, the reckless woman had launched herself against the blond male, Oriel shooting in the same direction a second afterward.

Disgruntled, Sephiel cracked his shoulder. In the back of his head, that pestering voice continued to insist that he had made a bad call by allowing her to come. Jezebel… She was the only being he cared about more than he did Jenova or this fucking mission…

"It was a bad call," He whispered grimly, allowing himself to acknowledge the mistake that could lose him his one chance at proving his usefulness to his brothers… Shaking his head briskly, he forced the voice to quiet down. What was done was done and the only way to ensure the beauty's safety would be for him to finish his task quickly and help her –whether she wanted to or not. After all, Sephiel would much rather have the brunette get angry at him than to see her hurt.

The clashing sound of the fated battle commencing became his signal to move out of the screen of thick clouds. Eager to finish what he'd started in Tifa's bar, he unsheathed his saber –the sound like the opening violin of the performance to come- and grinned as he zeroed on his unsuspecting prey. His mind shed every preoccupation, until only blood-lust was present.

The swordsman flapped his long, dark-gray wing once, shedding a rain of silky feathers before he tilted his body downwards on a free fall. As his speed increased, he spun so that his heels were coming in first and twisted his wrists to have his blade pointing down. If his aimed proved right, he would pin both figures and kill them with a single strike! His grin spread to show white teeth as excitement lighted his eyes, making them glow fiercer as his Jenova cells came awake. _I will show them all—No, I will show you, Jezbel, that I am the strongest of them all!_

The distance shrunk, his pulse quickened, his heart hammered. Adrenaline rushed through his veins, sharpening his sight as he came down in a plunge of death.

Seven meters.

The sound of his broken heart drummed in his ears and the colors –the colors that seconds ago had looked so dull, became vivid before his very eyes. Fire -no! Lava danced on the sky around him, enveloping him in a passionate embrace of fuming death!

Three meters.

And suddenly Tifa collapsed and, to his surprise, Sephiroth came awake! A clear testament of his power, the General's head snapped in his direction and his eyes widened a fraction.

Sephiel could almost see the wheels of his mind working furiously as he took in his precarious situation. But it was too late. There was no way he could stop him now. He was the erupting lava coming out of a volcano –fierce and unstoppable! And still, Sephiel gritted his teeth, wishing gravity could pull him even quicker! _It doesn't matter. He's dead._ A voice in his head sang victoriously, only a small taint of doubt leaking at the end.

But why was this presentiment of failure present? There was no way in hell he could be stopped! His older brother had no weapon within reach! No! There was only one outcome! He would still kill them both, the only alteration was that Sephiroth would see him coming. As this last thought intruded upon his mind, Sephiel recovered the smile he had lost as the distance continued to shrink, the increasing exhilaration prompting him to chuckle manically with a new thought now racing through his mind: I'm gonna kill them. I'm gonna kill them! _I am going to kill them!_ The chant endlessly repeated itself in his mind, but he didn't care because the notion of it felt so _fucking_ good

In the last possible second, though, Sephiroth suddenly twisted his body and reached out to grab his sword. Unnaturally, unexplainable, _unbelievably_… he griped the blade and –even when the sharp edge sliced into his hand, he did not let go until he had stopped the blow that should have pierced him!

_How! _He yelled inwardly, his mind trying to come up with an explanation to what was clearly an _impossibility_!

Slowly, he raised his gaze and locked it with his opponent, only to find himself staring at an enraged warrior that was everything _but_ a victim. Sephiroth's gaze lit up and everything around Sephiel ceased to exist as he was pulled into the soul –the core of what could only be described as raw power. Then, pain… burning-cold pain assaulted him, prompting his waylay senses to scream out in alert.

Something was wrong!

Something was _definitely _wrong!

He pulled back with great effort, noticing that the sword the General had stopped was frozen. A closer look confirmed his fear, the weapon was not the only thing the man had magically froze! Screaming curses, he tried to move his forearm, flex his fingers and twist his wrist, but it was to no avail. Sephiroth had frozen his arm up to his elbow, and his limb pained him to the point of madness!

"Did you truly believe I would allow you to touch her?" The General's voice was so calmed and cold, that it made Sephiel shiver with something that could only be described as fright –damning, unwelcome and overwhelming fright.

But it didn't matter! It shouldn't matter! He had a mission and he would not leave until he finished it! The mission was important, _it_ was important!

"I'm going to kill you both." Sephiel promised, pushing the pain to the back of his mind and getting ready to give it his all in one last clash. Damn the consequences! This was it! This was what he'd lived for! If this was to become a sacrifice… then so be it! He would do it! He would pay the prize of immortality in his family's eyes! He would be the bringer of death and the savior of the fallen angels!

Sephiroth, for his part, gently placed Tifa on the ground. Then, uncaringly –no! _m__ockingly,_ he stood up and slowly turned to face Sephiel. The fact that he was weaponless seemed like a minor inconvenience to the great warrior, as Sephiroth signaled him to come and get him.

The taunting action only fueled his anger. Yet, just as he was about to attack, a piercing wail filled with pain interrupted him and chilled him more than Sephiroth's sudden awakening. Because that scream came from her.

It came from _his_ Jezbel!

Torn in half, the warrior hesitated for only a second, before finally making his decision and hoping –with all his broken heart—that he would not regret it…

**-o0o-**

**Cid Highwind** twirled his lance over his head in order to gain momentum for the final blow. The cursed woman before him was on her knees and at his mercy, and shit, the pilot wasn't feeling very fuckin' merciful at the moment. Especially considering the bitch tried to torch him not once but twice! Mind stripped of even a glint of remorse, Cid hardened his muscles, angled his lance after the last twirl and thrust it forward with all his might. Yet, instead of hitting the woman, the silver point met with another thing… a thing that broke under the impact into a million of fuckin' pieces!

"What the fuckin' hell!" Cid said, flashing his teeth with both surprise and irritation.

"S-Sephiel…!" Jezbel's eyes were wide as she regarded her broken companion.

A silver-haired man now stood between him and his opponent, his right arm missing from the elbow down. The blond gave a step back in order to study the situation more clearly. Just where the fuck had this fellow come from? And how the hell was he able to break his arm in such a way? Not that he was complaining, but fuck, nothin' was making any goddamned sense!

"Jezbel…are…are you okay?" the man asked, his face contorted by pain he must have been trying to mask in vain.

Fuck, he was one tough son-of-a-bitch, he gave him that much!

"W-why… Sephiel… w-why did you…?" Stupefaction was written all over her face. Whoever this man was, the bitch did not expect him to help her –which was strange considering they were comrades…

Hmph, it was just like he'd thought, nothin' made any sense!

Choosing to ignore the gaps in his reasoning for now, Cid decided to get this over with once and for all. But before he could demand that they leave or die, another individual fell out of the goddamned sky. The midget landed on his feet, creating a small crater in the ship –much to Cid's increasing irritation.

A wisp of air, a blur and a thudding sound nearby prompted Cid to twirl around with his weapon ready to behead whoever was trying to harm him.

"Whoa, easy, there!" Genesis snapped, bending over backwards before the lance could pierce his throat. "Should I remind you that we are on the same side? …I think."

Slowly, Cid nodded in both apology and understanding before turning back to his 'real' enemies. Well, can anyone blame him for being edgy when these other bird-men were coming out of thin fuckin' air!

"Oriel, take Jezbel and go. I'll catch up later." The broken Sephiel ordered, his breaths coming in short and shallow, as labored as a chocobo working under the goddamned sun.

"Are you insane!" Jezbel said, her voice hitting a high pitch, while trying to regain her feet in vain. No, that woman was not going to be able to stand on her broken knee anytime soon, Cid had made sure of that.

"Hey, assholes, ya think we're just gonna let you fuckin' go?" The pilot interrupted grumpily. After all, they were the ones who started this whole shit in the first place! So now that his team was winning, why would he fuckin' let them escape? Before he could prepare himself to translate his thoughts into actions, Cid was punched in the stomach. Breathless, he fell to his knees while holding his abdomen, his lance falling out of reach. "Shit, that bird-man's fast!" he admitted, thankful to see that Genesis had pushed the man away before he could kick him in the chin and probably break his jaw while he was at it.

"Oriel, now! Take her!" Sephiel ordered again and, damn, that midget was fast to comply because in a minute he had spread his black wing and was fuckin' gone.

"You really think you'll catch up?" Genesis –unconcerned by the other two escaping—asked in a stoic voice, while he moved the wrist that held his saber in a taunting manner. Even from his position, Cid could easily tell that the SOLDIER wasn't very happy about fighting an already defeated man.

Sephiel smiled and shrugged lazily, "Careful, brother. I might just take you down with me."

Genesis' lips quirked at the corner and he gave a step forward, some of his excitement returning. "This will be fun."

The broken man flexed his knees in preparation for the inevitable clash while Genesis did the same. A tensing moment and then… a voice broke the standby.

"Genesis!"

The threesome turned to see Sephiroth walking towards them, an unconscious Tifa cradled in his arms. For a second, Cid felt his stomach knot with uncertainty, his mind reaching the worst conclusion. But then he noticed her chest moving and knew she was at least breathing and, therefore, alive. With utter relief he let go of the breath he hadn't even noticed he was holding.

"Take care of her." Sephiroth ordered, handing Tifa to him, his eyes glued to Sephiel's. "He's mine."

"Of course, you always get all the fun," Genesis complained with a hint of irritation, though he still took Tifa into his arms probably as protectively as Sephiroth had moments before.

Cid, for his part, was left speechless by it all. Just the mere devotion these two showed for his friend could easily be as honest as his own! And just having those two be on his side –on Tifa's side… lifted a burden off Cid's shoulders. Especially considering how strong his new enemies were proving to be, because it didn't matter what he said, this broken Sephiel was one tough son-of-a-bitch indeed...

"You'll regret the day you were born," Sephiroth promised. His deep voice was composed, yet the tone still carried a menace that would make even the stoic Vincent shiver.

"So be it." Sephiel said, breaking into a sprint and casting a fire spell as he did. Sephiroth dodged the fireball with ease and so the dance began…

**-o0o-**

**Uriel **placed a hand over his drumming heart and externalized his sudden worry with a deep frown. Inside his stomach, butterflies erupted, but not the kind that would commonly denote excitement. No. These 'butterflies' sprung from fear… But fear of what?

The big man, sitting amidst a cocoon of nature, scanned his surroundings thoroughly, only to find absolutely nothing out of place. He was in his safe spot, a clearing in the middle of a timber where his brothers rarely dared to intrude. This was the place he came to when he wished to meditate, to dream of a peaceful life he knew he would someday have... And yet, even though he was sure he was alone, he could not help but feel tension spreading to his shoulders, squeezing all peacefulness out of his mind and replacing it by a sense of unwelcomed change. Or rather, it felt as though a wailing wind of doom was coming his way.

A swooshing sound, a thud, a sob and he was no longer alone.

Uriel stood up abruptly. With his senses in full alert, he moved with uncanny quickness towards the place where the new arrivals had landed. Pushing a curtain of vines away, he found none other than Oriel and Jezbel, both sporting newly received wounds that were still burning, aching and bleeding.

Hardening his eyes and locking his jaw, Uriel hid his increasing concern behind a mask of blankness. Upon noticing him, Jezbel turned tearful eyes to him and he knew –oh, he knew by just looking at those puffy sockets why he was feeling so anxious. And he also knew what he needed to do.

"Where is he?" he asked, his voice came out stronger than he'd meant, but Jezbel lost no time. With a shaking voice filled with an unspoken apology, she gave him the coordinates. Nodding curtly, he forced his three white wings out and teleported to where his brother was, hoping –for the sake of all- that he would reach him in time.

**To be continued…**

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**AN: **Please do not forget to show your support by **reviewing**! Also, if anyone's interested in the drawings done for this fic, you can check out the links for them in my profile page.


	21. Unexpected

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any of its characters. I am just burrowing them for a while.

**Author's notes: **Yes! I finally finished my first semester of my master degree. Thus, I should be able to update sooner than I have been doing. It was hard work, but I was satisfied by how my remaining campaigns came out. Just arrived back to Mexico yesterday and I will be spending the holidays here. I would like to thank you all for your support. Without it, this story would not be nearly as good. ~**Enjoy!**

**Special thanks:** To Res for making an amazing fanart drawing for this story! To see it, check the links on my profile!

**Quick thanks to logged-on readers: **Ghedea, Kick-It-Aus Style-Mal's, CNome, Goopy Sentimentalist, S. Voltaire, SharinganUserX, Slyefoxfury, LoveableDimples16, Krho, , brokenmaelstrom, Courage-Red Twilight, Houkaru Kisaragi, .o0XxGurenxX0o. and ali6220.

**Quick replies to anonymous readers: **Sephiroth_Owa13 _(thank you so much for the amazing support! I am glad you enjoyed the chapter and I agree, I hate when evil guys are just…evil, you know? Which is why I decided to actually give my 'evil' guys a reason :p), _pearlwhite _(Indeed, I apologize for the wait. I am on vacations now, so I should be able to update sooner this time. I am glad you enjoyed the last chapter and hope you like this one as well!), _Kia _(Ah, I hate when that happens. Anyways, hope you can review with your account next time so I can give you a better reply. About your questions… well, you'll soon find out :p), _E _(Lol, I have never heard Omgatos, but it made me laugh. I am glad you like the story and hope you keep enjoying it!),_ ah-no-nymus_ (Lol, yes. I am back and free for a while since the semester ended. I am mastering in Advertising design. It's very demanding work, though. Thankfully my classes don't start until February!), _

**Edited by:** …

**Typos pointed out by**: Goopy Sentimentalist.

**~Enjoy** and don't forget to **review**!

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"_The world changes, and all that was once strong now proves unsure."_

_-JRR Tolkein (Two Towers)-_

"**One Winged Angels"**

By: FenixPhoenix

**Chapter 21: "Unexpected"**

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**Genesis ****Rhapsodos **followed the fight intently, his arms cradling an unconscious Tifa. Though he was worried about her, he was even more worried about Sephiroth. The man was filled with a rage Genesis had never seen before.

Perhaps to someone who knew him less, the General was –at the moment- the epitome of composure, but Genesis knew better. He could tell by the slight tension in his shoulders and the almost imperceptible locking of his jaw, that Sephiroth was ready to kill –in the slowest and cruelest of ways-- the broken Sephiel.

"At this rate, it'll be over soon," Genesis whispered when Sephiel was sent crashing into the side of the ship.

"What the hell! You want to destroy the goddamned thing or somethin'?! What's wrong with you?" Cid screamed from beside him, tossing his arms above his head and getting way too worked up about the slight indentation left behind.

Couldn't the man tell that the thing furthest away from Sephiroth's mind was the ship?

_It's a good point, though, _a voice in Genesis head pointed out as the pilot's words registered. Indeed, the ship had to be taken into account. After all, this was the fastest way to move around now that using teleportation was more energy-consuming than before!

But what was he to do?

…Intervene…?

A hoarse scream from Sephiel made the poet winced inwardly. Sephiroth was holding the man by the throat and, by the look of things, it wouldn't be too long before his fingers crushed the man's air pipe.

So this answered his question.

No way in hell was he going to get in between the silver dragon and his prey! Especially not for someone who meant absolutely nothing to Genesis.

Another scream and tension froze every man standing, including Sephiroth. Why? Because this was an unexpected scream. One filled with not agony –like Sephiel's—but utter fear. It was a scream that made the red-faced pilot beside him pale five shades and rightly so because the scream came from--

"I think we are both holding someone of importance," a big and muscled guy was floating in the sky, fifteen meters away from where Sephiroth floated with his intended victim. Three white wings –reminiscent of Angeal—decorated the stranger's back and in his arms… in his arms was Shera, Cid's pregnant wife.

"S-Shera…" the pilot whispered her name with fear that must have been contagious, because Genesis felt his stomach quench with sudden uncertainty.

Turning to Sephiroth, Genesis found him studying his predicament with the cold eyes of a SOLDIER first class. For the first time since he'd met up with him, the poet saw the man he remembered. The man that ShinRa had created… the SOLDIER they had shaped to become the deadliest weapon in their arsenal.

And in the back of his head, the voice of uncertainty wondered in whispers if Sephiroth would put aside his anger to save the woman's life. If he would ignore Tifa's wounds to save the wife of another man --a man that he wasn't even close to begin with!

Without consciously knowing why, Genesis hoped that he would...

"Is this the cowardly way in which you and yours will choose to fight me?" Sephiroth asked, his tone as cold as Shiva's touch. The downward tilt of his silver brows, told Genesis that he was nothing short of disgusted by the situation.

"Please! Please…my baby!" Shera pleaded anxiously, her voice trembling as her hands grasped onto the arms of her captor, more frightful of the possibility that he would let her go while they were still in the air.

Genesis moved slowly, not wishing to steal the man's attention, as he attempted to place Tifa on the ground in order to have more freedom of movement. However, just as soon as he started bending down, the newcomer's eyes turned to him and –without needing a single word—the poet understood the threat.

Cursing inwardly he tightened his hold on Tifa a little bit, pulling her into his chest in an effort to hide the feeling of uselessness that was filling him. Granted, he barely knew the couple that was Tifa's friends, but there was something so very wrong about watching a pregnant woman in danger.

It did not sit well with him.

Not in the slightest.

"YOU BASTARD! YOU FUCKING COWARD! YOU PUT MY FAMILY DOWN OR I WILL SKIN YOU ALIVE!" Cid yelled, but his hostile words did not match up with his anxious tone.

"It's your move, brother," the silver-haired man, unconcerned by the insults flying his way, said with voice collected and challenging eyes.

It was sudden what happened next. So sudden, Genesis had almost missed it.

A decision had been reached and transmitted in the bat of an eye, without any word or a great physical action needed. Indeed, the only proof that a unanimous decision had been made, was the fact that –at exactly the same time—both warriors had let go of their respective hostages.

Beside him, a hoarse scream was ripped out of Cid's throat by the claws of fright. The pilot, defeated and completely drain, crumbled to his knees, his eyes glued to the figure of his pregnant wife as she fell from the skies, her wail a crescendo in a tragic symphony.

And then, as Genesis knew it would happen, Sephiroth was there. Without missing a beat, he caught the woman, cradling her gently –and if his eyes did not deceive him, even protectively-- in his arms.

Still in mid-air, the General turned towards the spot where he'd last left a falling Sephiel, but neither him nor the unwelcome intruder where to be found. Like ghosts out of a dark past, they had come to scare the hell out of them, before vanishing into a flutter of grey and white feathers.

And this too, did not sit well with Genesis.

**-o0o-**

**Vincent Valentine **sat before a tired-looking Reeve. The seat he had chosen was surprisingly comfortable, a clashing contrast to the tight atmosphere that Cid's phone call had left behind.

"I…ah…," the older man displayed what Vincent could only describe as vacillation as he tried to breach the subject that had brought him into his presence. With trembling fingers, Reeve combed his black hair once with more force than was necessary.

"Something's happened on Cid's end," he finally confided.

Vincent felt concern taking a perch on his mind, but it was not strong enough to override his rational side. So keeping his cool, he nodded curtly and sat a little straighter on his seat. It was his way of showing he was listening and that he should continue unafraid. Though, part of him was already feeling Shiva's finger caressing the length of his spine.

It was bad news, that was for sure, for what else could make Reeve hesitant?

Not to mention that bad news always had a certain aura he had learned to pick up from even before his days with the Turks. Bad things, for some reason, seemed to be attracted to him at a twisted magnetic level. What happened with Lucrecia and Hojo was, of course, the clearest example of all…

"Tifa is with Cid," Reeve's deep voice brought his thoughts to a sudden halt.

His lips parted as utter surprise filled him to the brim. Tifa was with Cid?! How can this possibly constitute as something negative? Surely, this couldn't have produced Reeve's grimness!

So then what was he missing?!

Before he could ask one of the hundred of questions that his mind was unmercifully flashing behind his eyes, Reeve stopped him by holding out his palm. The gloominess surrounding him became even more present in every line of his face, and in his eyes, there was uncertainty and a hint of something else… something that strangely resembled fright.

Unconsciously, Vincent Valentine braced himself for the punch he knew was coming.

"They were attacked, and something happened to her. Cid said that she looks like she's sleeping, but needless to say, he's worried. He asked me to share this news only with you."

"Why?" was Vincent's automatic reply. His tone was so low, that it sounded like it had been uttered by someone else.

Still, there was no fear hugging him, as he had supposed, but suspicion. It rose in him in an instant and –from amidst the darkest part of his psyche—Chaos squirmed uneasily. The tingling sensation produced by the entity sent alarm bells tolling in his head. Aware of what could happen if the demon took control thinking they were in trouble, he forced himself to calm down.

Only when his hand released the fistful of crimson fabric, did he refocus his attention on the man that was producing a whirlwind of emotions inside of him. Most of which he certainly didn't care for.

Across from him, he found Reeve was also lost in retrospection, mulling over something that made his frown deepen even more. Evidently, Vincent was not the only one listening to voices in his head…

"Why, Reeve?" he repeated in his usual tone of voice, successfully snapping the older male out of his thoughts.

Composing himself in record time, the scientist cleared his throat and resumed his unofficial report.

"Vincent, you are the fastest one of us, even faster than Cid's ship –which, after the attack, is probably not working to its full capacity," Reeve informed, intertwining his fingers over the cold desk of his makeshift office.

By now, a thin layer of sweat was coating the man's broad forehead. Whether it was caused by the complications this produced in their schedule or by something else, Vincent was seriously wondering if he even wanted to know…

"Though I am certain that it shouldn't take Cid long to fix the ship, considering his skilled crew, I must admit that Tifa's condition doesn't sit well with me. I think pressure is high as it is and the last we need is for her to be unwell," Reeve explained rather awkwardly, the fact that he was dancing around the main point of discussion more obvious by the second.

"Get to it, Reeve," Vincent prompted when the man left his words hanging on a thread of hesitation. Already, the ex-Turk was making connections, trying to guess what the man's request was going to be.

Part of him was certain that he would ask him to take him to Tifa in Chaos' form, something that –though an unwelcome prospect—was without a doubt the most logical solution.

"Well, I need you to take Rie to Cid's ship."

There! Just like he'd—

_Wait! Did he just say…?_

Vincent's crimson eyes widened a fraction. The tension he'd been feeling since the moment he had stepped inside the room was quick to extend to his shoulders. It must have become evident, because Reeve rushed to explain his petition.

"We both know that you and I are what's keeping our group from going at each other's throats. If we both leave, I fear that the new Avalanche will crumble before we make it back." Though he spoke with the grave tone of authority, the trembling of his voice at the end could not be disguised or mistaken.

At least the man had not taken the decision lightly, but still…

"…" Vincent's eyes, despite it all, became slits as he pierced the man where he sat.

When the pause –the staring competition—became too much for him, Reeve sighed profoundly and added, "I know Rie may lack a lot of common sense, but when it comes to science and explaining new phenomenon –especially concerning Jenova cells-- she is as good as me, if not more."

Silence again.

By this time, Vincent Valentine's initial shock had long since given way to cold irritation. Locking his jaw, he worked on maintaining his body completely still, else he should give in to his emotions. Truth was, he wanted to leave or –at the very least—cross his arms and deny this man his request, regardless of how important it was!

Hell, didn't Reeve understand what Chaos was! Couldn't he tell that the last Vincent wanted was to see another look of surprise –of _fear_ coming from a new acquaintance when she saw him for what he truly was?

A monster.

A terrifyingly strong monster, but a monster no less…

_What if I can't control him? _

_What if she does something to upset me and I lose the fragile control I hold over Chaos? _

_What if I hurt her…?_

Knives of doubt slashed at his soul, shredding here and there in such a way that he wanted to scream in both pain and frustration! The blade just kept coming in and out, in and out, and it threatened to drive him insane!

Was there really no other choice?!

Inside of him, Chaos roared and the other two entities that had become part of his life soon joined him in a chorus of savage anger. Having been touched –literally—by Vincent's emotions, the creatures were now trembling with rage and fear. The gunslinger, heeding the danger signals, paled a couple of shades as he tried to rein them in before one of them slipped between his fingers.

Closing his eyes, the ex-Turk filled his mind with soothing thoughts. He thought of the ocean –waves crashing against each other in a liquid dance. He filled his minds with the memories of the friends he used to have –training, drinking, playing pool... He focus then on the way his gun felt on his hand, on the taste of red wine on his tongue, on the feeling of cold rain on his skin… until slowly but surely, like a baby's lullaby, his forced companions settled down and went back to sleep.

Slumping his shoulders, he sighed profoundly.

He was _defeated_.

"Vincent…" Reeve's voice was low and careful but draped with a tingle of urgency that still managed to sound an awful lot like a plead.

"I understand," the reply came to him unbidden and cold. But even as he regretted uttering it, he knew this had to be done.

Fighting the inevitable was pointless anyways.

"I'm sorry. I know that—"

"I will wait for her outside in two hours. I think that ought to be sufficient time for her to gather whatever she needs," the gunslinger said, not keen on hearing honey-layered excuses.

Reeve was right. It was about time he stopped being so selfish.

Tifa was much more important to him that whatever Rie may think of him. So for her, if for nothing and no one else, he would introduce the whole world to Chaos if needed be.

Regaining his feet, Vincent Valentine nodded curtly in a mixture of apology and understanding at the man sitting so still behind the wooden desk. Then, without a word, he turned around and left to get ready.

It was going to be an even longer day than he had anticipated…

Two hours later, Vincent was outside and at the ready. Anxious, he paced the muddy surface, satisfied that the spot he had chosen to meet the scientists was away from prying eyes. After all, it was better if Cloud and the rest did not learn he was leaving with Rie –nor why-- until they had a better explanation of what was happening in Cid's ship.

Ten minutes after he had arrived, Reeve and Rie came into view. The girl, he noticed, had a bounce to her step that seemed too out of context for comfort. Zeroing on Reeve's face, Vincent immediately felt something in his stomach twist as he regarded the nervous expression he was sporting.

"What is it?" He asked curtly as soon as they were within hearing range. His voice, thankfully, sounded cool and collected, very different from the feelings invading him at the moment.

Reeve spared half-a-glare at Rie, before turning apologetic eyes on him and explaining, "When I told her you would be flying her to Cid's ship, she took valium to reduce her anxiety. However, she took more than she ought to because now she's pretty much walking on damn clouds..."

Vincent frowned and tried not to show that, for some reason, that piece of information was unwelcomed. Must he really take someone that was clearly unwilling to be with him? Was there _really_ no other way? After all, how can this trip be any comfortable if she couldn't trust him to handle her while shaped like a winged demon?

Not that he could blame her but--

"I did the most logical thing. After all, I'm afraid of heights which is a thing easily counteracted by valium," Rie explained with a silly smile on her face.

"Though normally that wouldn't be such a bad thing, this will unfortunately impair your judgment when you treat Tifa, Rie! You should have consulted with me first!" Reeve chided, shaking his head as though he was talking to his rebel daughter instead of a peer.

Surprise, however, flooded Vincent when her words –and their meaning—fully registered and it promptly paved way for something better.

Relief.

Welcome and sweet relief.

"So it's flying what you're scared of?" he asked before he could stop himself. Thing was, part of him needed –more than wanted—to be clear on that point. No. That was not true. He –every single fiber of his being-- wanted to be reassured that he was not the cause of her discomfort.

Rie, oblivious to how much this meant to him, tilted her head in confusion while Reeve's eyes lighted with merriment he was vainly trying to contain.

"What Vincent wants to know is if you are going to be afraid of him once he transforms," Reeve dissected his message, put it in understandable Rie-language and pretty much exposed the gunslinger while he was at it.

Vincent, feathers ruffled, pressed his lips and crossed his arms.

Must the man be so… crude?

_A glare should do,_ the ex-Turk figured, getting right off to do just that.

"Well, what do you want then? If I treat you with delicacy, you glare and if I treat you callously you glare!" Reeve defended playfully, unable to contain the laughter that erupted past his lips.

"Should I remind you that Chaos is going to be with us shortly?" Vincent threatened half-heartily, smiling at the questioning look he received from the older man. Wow, he really couldn't call his bluff, huh?

"Well, so long as you please do not let me fall, I have no qualms with you or Chaos," Rie interrupted, smiling broadly at him. It was a lazy smile of one who is… well, drugged.

Satisfied, Vincent decided it was time to set things in motion. Closing his eyes, he called Chaos forth, and waited for his transformation to start.

And it soon did…

It was uncomfortable and painful.

He felt the skin of his back stretching and stretching upward, well beyond the capacity of a normal human being's. His bones, meanwhile, began shifting inside his body to accommodate the growing phalanges which –after a short eternity-- ripped out of the thin layer of skin that held them in. Once his wings were free, he spread them, glad to feel the ache of the first seconds of transformation dwindling until it was completely gone.

After all this years, he still felt like screaming during his transformation. His brain had, naturally, gotten quicker in changing the receptors of pain into those of pleasure, so that, as time passed by, the torture had shortened from long minutes into long seconds.

But, even if shorter, it was torture no less.

Then, just as Vincent waited for his body to fully adjust to the changes, something unexpected happened. Inside him and around him, everything froze with the biggest shock he'd yet received.

Slowly –almost hesitantly-- he switched his attention to the cause of his consternation, only to find Rie.

The girl was stroking one of his long wings with a careful touch. In her eyes he found raw wonderment and delighted awe. Even the indifferent Chaos became mellow under the gaze that regarded him as a beautiful creature, rather than a monster to be feared.

"The texture of your wing-webs is softer than it looks," she whispered, turning to him and smiling lopsidedly, "I must admit, you have very pretty wings, Vincent Valentine."

And then, to add to the amount of surprises he'd been getting, the terrifying almighty Chaos… _purred_... and Vincent's jaw dropped open for a second. Needless to say… this became the most _unexpected_ thing of all!

Beside them, Reeve cleared his throat a bit embarrassed –probably at witnessing such an unusual display from Chaos— and waited until his and Rie's eyes were on him before adding his two gils.

"I think you should be going," he suggested, that damn merriment still present despite his embarrassment. A closer look, however, displayed that there were also trances of shock and interest swirling within Reeve's brown orbs.

And, though it pained him to admit it, Vincent could not blame him. Chaos had surprised and intrigued him too…

Deciding to give this more thought at a more convenient time, the gunslinger turned to Rie and asked, "Are you ready?"

She nodded and, to add one more surprise to his vast collection, before his reflexes could kick in, she had practically thrown herself –rather awkwardly—into his arms. Her own arms automatically circled his neck and she held onto him with a force that belied her fragile-looking body.

So much for using valium to counteract her fear then…

Trying not to smile, Vincent Valentine picked her passenger up and, not wishing to hear anything else from Reeve, he shot upwards into the skies.

And so the journey he had been dreading, commenced on a good note.

**-o0o-**

**Tifa Lockhart** was alone, standing amidst frigid darkness. She had been here before, though. Whenever she was feeling left out, abandoned, her dreamless nights had taken her here.

Yet even within these all too familiar surroundings, she felt stranded in an unknown place. In a place that reeked of evil and of her own damned fright. Because, as much as she wanted to, she hadn't yet mastered the art to self-deceive, and thus she could not hide what was already there.

Because in the deepest recesses of her soul, she was afraid.

Utterly terrified, in fact.

But then something happened that had never happened before. Something changed for the worst…

In the distance, there was a flash of light that looked like the shaky tail of a lightning bolt. The light then began to somewhat dull until only a point of silver remained. The object, suddenly, started coming closer by the second at an alarming speed. The point –no, the sphere, seemed like it was made of liquid the closer it got.

And the fear… that damned feeling… just increased tenfold.

Still coming forward, the sphere suddenly transformed into a wave of acid-like liquid that grew in both size and power. Tifa, limbs shaking uncontrollably, felt like a tiny little rock preparing to be hit by the fury of an ocean!

Every instinct inside her body indicated that she should run. Her mind even yelled it by flashing thousands of red flags. But her heart, for some reason, tightened at the mere idea of trying to run away, to escape this, this _thing. _It was, in short, _inconceivable_ to do so.

So she didn't.

Instead, she stood her ground. Tifa, heart racing, gave a step back, bended her knees and braced herself for the pain that was surely coming. That monstrous silvery thing came closer, looming a good ten meters above her head. And just as the wave was about to come down on her, Tifa closed her eyes only to feel…

_Nothing_…

Yes, there was nothing.

No pain.

No sound.

No touch.

No scream.

It was almost as though everything had been frozen in time, herself included, because she was too afraid to move. Afraid that if she were to open her eyes, the spell that was keeping her from being attacked would be broken.

"Fight, my child. You have been selected to fight for the planet and fight you shall. And in return, I and those I have chosen will keep you safe," a voice whispered in her ear, softly, soothingly, adoringly.

A single tear ran down her cheek and the invisible hand gripping at her heart tightened due to a very different emotion.

It was sadness.

Cruel, cruel sadness ripped a sob from her and made every bone of her body shake.

Tifa Lockhart opened her eyes to find a golden-armored woman standing beside her. She was beautiful –just like Sephiroth had described… but she was still not who she had expected. And thus, for a moment, Tifa felt like screaming as her fragile hope was shattered against reality.

Had it really been her imagination? Was that sweet, sweet voice from Minerva and not from… _her_? For the only woman that could have soothed her so easily was her mother. Her beautiful and sorely missed mother...

"You have been selected Tifa," Minerva repeated, her tone soft but not as soothing as the whispered voice had been.

An evil chuckle brought Tifa's attention to the being she had forgotten about. The creature that had wrought so much suffering and destruction into everyone of her loved ones lives.

This was a creature that strived in misery and took pleasure in death.

It was Jenova.

She was still what she had been in the General's nightmare. She was silver and cold. But she was no longer only a floating head. Tifa's mind had filled in the details so that the alien now stood complete and imposing.

She was a naked woman of silver with ten wings protruding out of her back. Replacing feathers were, hundreds of sharp, silver knives that promised pain if messed with. Her long fingers ended in curved claws and from her ankles came out a wicked talon.

Yet, even when she had put a face and body to such a menace, Tifa still remained terrified of her.

As if having felt her faltering, Minerva, the Planet's guardian, bended down to speak in her ear; as though, whatever she was about to say, was a carefully guarded secret.

"I and my warriors will protect you," she assured, her voice still softly spoken. And if she concentrated enough, Tifa could have swore she heard again her mother's voice echoing Minerva's promise.

Whether that was a wistful wish or pure reality, the barmaid chose to believe that even if in an echo, her mother was there with her –helping her, protecting her, loving her…

So with renewed energy, she nodded her understanding and squared her shoulders as she regarded the unwelcomed creature that –even when disguised as one-- knew nothing of what it meant to be human.

"And fight I shall," said Tifa, falling into a fighting stance and getting ready to break the standstill.

"I cannot be beaten. I cannot be stopped. I cannot end. Nor can I be destroyed," Jenova pronounced, laughing manically from within her cage, "Get on your knees… and die!"

Just as she finished speaking, five knives from one of her wings shot towards Tifa, but she was quick to deflect three of them while liquid lifestream rose from the ground to take care of the other two before they could touch her.

Feeling her confidence rising, even when Minerva was no longer visible by her side, Tifa smiled at the creature for the very first time and said, "You have it wrong, Jenova. I am the one that cannot be stopped, and I have set my sight on you… I will kill you, mark my words."

And as she launched her attack, Tifa Lockhart was ready to prove that this was not a baseless oath.

The fight between the planet and its threat had truly just begun…

**To be continued...**

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**AN: **Again, please do not forget to show your support by **reviewing**! Also, I have finished Uriel's drawing (you can find the link in my profile). **Res** has also done some beautiful concept drawings for this story (links also in my profile) if anyone wants to take a look!


	22. Awakened Intrigue

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any of its characters. I am just burrowing them for a while.

**Author's notes: **If you have questions, if you would like me to clarify something, if you would like to know more about a character, please let me know. It is through this that I am force to delve into the details in order to write a coherent story. For those who do review, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

~ Enough ranting, **enjoy!**

**Quick thanks to logged-on readers: **_.o0XxGurenxX0o., SharinganUserX, LoveableDimples16, CNome, Goopy Sentimentalist, brokenmaelstrom, Valarspawn, , Ghedea, Kelana-ti, Command76, Sephiroth owa13 and Pandora-Lockheart._

**Quick replies to anonymous readers: **Mina _(Hello! Thank you very much for taking the time to review. I am glad you are enjoying it so far, and hope you continue to do so! Enjoy the chapter), _Shadow Blackheart_ (I am also glad you managed to review, lol. I am always happy to entertain and it means a lot for you to let me know you enjoy my story. Thank you for the compliment and I hope you continue to be hooked on what's to come), _abc_ (Ah, you just made me blush. Thank you very much. Hope you enjoy this chapter!) _E _(Lol. And it's fun to read too. Anyhow, thank you and I hope you enjoy this next chapter!) _

**Typos pointed out by**: _CNome_, _Ex Oxide_ and _Goopy_ _Sentimentalist_.

**~Enjoy** and don't forget to **review**!

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"_It is a sad fate for a man to die too well known by anybody else and still unknown to himself."_

_-Francis Bacon-_

"**One Winged Angels"**

By: FenixPhoenix

**Chapter 22: "Awakened Intrigue"**

**Vincent Valentine **looked down at the figure that had –for a while- represented his worst fear, but which he was now carefully holding. Rie hadn't said a word since they had taken to the sky, yet he could tell she was not as relaxed as she probably hoped when she'd taken valium.

Whether it was plain fear or her trying to veer her attention away from the fact that she was at his mercy, she had kept her face buried on the collar of his cape. At the beginning her hold had been strong around his neck, but eventually, she'd retrieved her hands and was currently holding onto the front of his clothes by fists alone.

Vincent had not thought much about this until he felt her extremities trembling.

"Are you alright?" he asked, worried that she might get a panic attack while this high up in the sky.

"I-I'm c-c-cold," she answered, balling even more in his arm in order to keep the wind away from stealing more of her already decreasing warmth.

Immediately, the retrieval of her arms made perfect sense. Suppressing the sudden urge to smile boyishly at her, he concentrated his energies. The good thing about having Chaos was that he was able to cast a fire spell inward, keeping himself warm without damaging his internal organs.

By doing so, he also managed to irradiate a good amount of heat, probably comparable to the heat a strong light bulb would generate for someone standing close by.

Slowly but surely, Rie's body must have caught the warmth because her trembling decreased until it had stopped altogether.

Satisfied, Vincent next turned his attention towards introspection. It was something he kept doing more often than not, ever since he'd decided to deal with the creatures inside of him rather than just ignore them –which had never worked, to be honest.

Thus, the gunslinger, allowing the flying to be done automatically by years of experience, plunged into Chaos' _chaotic_ feelings in order to try and make sense of them. The thing was, it surprised and, at the same time, concerned him how Chaos was dealing with the whole situation.

The former Turk had never touched –let alone held- anyone while transformed because he had simply been too frighten to do so. The idea that Chaos was equally in control when using his power had been all that was needed to reinforce his believe that it was too dangerous to interact in a social way while in this… _demonic_ state.

If given more of a choice, Vincent Valentine would have probably refrained from allowing Chaos to interact with anyone in a physical level –even if it was only in a superficial basis like he was doing at the moment.

And yet, now that he had done so, what was happening was something he had never imagined could or would ever happen. There was no anger emanating from Chaos and no danger signals had been issued by his mind. Instead, swirling inside of him—of them, like a pack of butterflies, was a different feeling. It was one which Chaos was much more familiar with than him.

It was curiosity.

A whole lot of it, actually. But what concerned him was the intensity and the quantity of this curiousness. Suffice to say, this was much more than Chaos had ever displayed before –even more so than when he'd first been unwillingly summoned.

However, below that, there was also something else. It was something that didn't add up because, as he paid closer attention, Vincent realized that he could only describe it as _caution_.

Caution, a familiar feeling for him but hardly something Chaos was accustomed to. In fact, the entity was at a complete loss as to how to react towards it, and his hesitation felt like a point of a needle picking at Vincent's mind.

It felt perhaps as uncomfortable for him as it did for the confused creature.

As Chaos' lack of confidence swelled, Vincent mind started flashing red flags. For an agonizing second, he thought he would lose control and that he would hurt Rie by crushing her against his chest as a surge of power traveled through his limbs.

Yet, the desire to hurt vanished before it could translate into actions. Simply put, the bestial side of Chaos was indeed boiling with rage at this unknown sentiment, while the other part of him was holding back –placating his turmoil with almost civil reason.

As his mind absorbed all this, Vincent was met with a simplified image of what was happening with his least unstable, but most dangerous, companion. Chaos was standing atop the line that divided his building interest from raw fear of the unknown. Well, perhaps fear was not the right word, it was more like a defensiveness that could –if given the chance— pave way for hostile anger.

And, of course, this was where caution played it's part.

But what he could not begin to fathom, was why someone as oblivious as Rie had managed to do what only Vincent Valentine had been able to…

Make Chaos _feel_…

Was it perhaps Vincent's own confused feelings what was slowly but surely affecting the demon? Was he tainting his soul and transforming it –evolving it into something more…_human_?

Was that even possible?

Before he could attempt answering that, Chaos' reflexes kicked in, sending his body orders to move before a nine tail whip could smash against his face. Tossing everything out of his mind, Vincent allowed Chaos' bloodlust to fill him as he regarded the two figures that were now blocking his path.

"Ah! You stole my evidence!" Rie exclaimed, looking at the redhead figure, but clinging more fiercely to Vincent.

The redhead smiled, unsheathed his sword threateningly and spoke with a honey layered tone, "Hello, Love. I am thrilled to learn you remember me."

The female beside him, wings a light brown color, merely snorted her contempt, "You'll be learning my name soon enough."

"Err… is there a way we can land first?" Rie whispered, her hands fisting until her knuckles were white.

Knowing they were vulnerable so long as he had to take care of Rie, Vincent was about to try and land, but his enemies must have realized the obvious too because in an instant, they were upon him.

Trying to fight two incredible skilled individuals while not being able to use his arms was a deed harder than he'd thought. His raw demonic reflexes –_or maybe it was mere luck?-_ was all that was keeping him, and his shaking charge, from being torn apart by their enemies.

As he spun out of the way of the redhead's long sword for the twelfth time, however, his luck seemed to run out for the whip managed to strike one of his shoulders with so much power, that Chaos raged and completely forgot about Rie.

One moment he was holding her, the next Vincent's psyche had been pushed aside and she was no longer there. Chaos had let go of her –without an ounce of reservations—and had grabbed the enemy's whip by its tails. Pulling the weapon towards him while spinning his body, he managed to catch the short female by surprise. The quick movement destroyed her balance and sent her body arching above him.

Chaos roared victoriously and shot upwards, not losing the opportunity that was staring him right in the face. He extended his clawed hand and summoned fire to envelop it, heating the metal but not melting it. Then he plunged it right onto the girl's back.

The female, however, managed to twist sideways at the last second, so that instead of piercing her lower back, he grazed –quite deeply nevertheless—the skin from hip to hip.

Screaming, she worked on creating distance between them, her eyes wide and her dark skin pale with unbelief and pain. Vincent Valentine could still smell the burnt skin of her back, a cauterized wound could not be cured with magic after all, and Chaos knew it.

"How dare you!" she spat, her petit body trembling uncontrollably and then... he remembered.

_Rie! _He yelled to Chaos, forcing him to remember her, pushing onto him his unbound concern and hoping he would cede his place for Vincent to go and look for her.

It didn't quite happen as he wanted, but the results were the same. In a blink, Chaos was moving towards the place where he felt the girl. Vincent could only see what was happening as though from behind a glass which, no matter how much he attacked, he could not break.

As Rie came into view, so did the swordsman that had, at some point, left the fight. He was holding her, while she struggled between fighting and clinging to him both at the same time. Her situation was a precarious one and she seemed to be trying to decide what the best course of action would be.

But what Vincent could not understand, was why she was still alive. Had the redhead wanted to, he was sure Rie would be lying crushed on the earth below or impaled on his wicked sword.

Instead he was holding her by the waist, her back to him and… and what the hell was he _doing_?

Ordering Chaos to zero on his free hand, Vincent noticed that the man had a syringe filled with blood. Pulling it out of the side of Rie's neck, he pocked it seconds before Chaos was upon him, roaring as he realized that someone was holding what was _his_.

Vincent frowned at this prang of possessiveness, while the swordsman pulled back effortlessly, a wolfish smile parting his lips.

"Ah, you want her, little bat? Well here… catch," he said, tossing Rie… in the opposite direction from where they were floating.

Chaos was torn for a second, but before Vincent could order him to go after Rie, he had chosen her and was speeding towards her flailing, screaming form. He caught her a good fifteen seconds later, her body shaking; her eyes wide and glazed with tears.

Maybe it was the look she gave him of vulnerable innocence and, within it, of having been betrayed, but Chaos was all too quick to cede control back to Vincent. Yet, he had not been able to retreat before sharing with his host another feeling the entity was not familiar with.

It was _remorse_.

_Let me deal with your mess, huh? Typical…_ He scowled inwardly, unsure of what to say to Rie. Sure, he could blame it all on Chaos, but… was that a good excuse? After all, he had told her he would not let her fall and in the end, he had. Worst of all, had the redhead not needed her…her blood, she would most probably be dead.

At this last thought, he grimaced.

"The enemy is gone," Rie pointed out calmly.

Vincent looked down at her and froze at being met with a smile. It click, however, almost immediately after that the smile was courtesy of the valium still traveling through her body, and neutralized its effect like a bucket of cold water.

Before he could say something, Rie looked away. Half a minute later, she clung to him again, much more furiously than before, and settled into silence.

Just to make sure they were _safe_, Vincent spread Chaos' awareness receiving the same result. The enemy had indeed fled, which was strange considering they had the upper hand.

_What did they want with you, Rie?_ He wondered when his mind flashed him the image of the vial of blood the redhead had pocketed. Knowing he would find no answers while floating in the air, he pushed the issue to the back of his mind for future reference. He would talk to Reeve about it when he had the chance.

"Let us go," he decided, earning an almost imperceptible nod from the woman in his arms. Again, part of him wished to apologize, but he was too rusty in that department and feared that he would only make things worse.

So he didn't.

Checking the GPS device Reeve had given him before taking off, Vincent Valentine set their course, and they continued on their way in complete and _heavy_ silence…

**-o0o-**

**Genesis ****Rhapsodos **leaned back on the wall of the deck and gazed at the cross-armed pilot standing beside him, an abused cigarette on his mouth.

"There is no hate, only joy. For you are beloved by the goddess. Hero of the dawn, Healer of worlds," the poet recited gently, returning his gaze to the sky that seemed to have been set on fire as the sun began its retreat for the day.

"The hell 're you babblin' about!" Cid grunted.

"Oh, but your mind is simple if you do not understand."

"You sayin' I'm stupid?" The question was a threat in disguised.

"I would never dream of it," Genesis retorted, putting up his hands as if to placate a wild dog.

The pilot frowned but nodded curtly after a while and turned his attention back to the sky.

The poet sighed, "Why am I here, again?"

"I need ya to 'scort Rie to Teef's room," he said, massaging the back of his neck with one hand and muttering, "She's fuckin' trouble that one."

Intrigued, the poet raised a perfect eyebrow, "How so?"

"Well, damn! Las' time she was 'ere, she fuckin' almost made m'Shera explode into million of goddamned pieces!"

"Your… wife?" Genesis asked with surprise and skepticism. Well, if Sephiroth had the power to call upon meteor, he supposed that a woman could have the power to make someone… _explode_?

Cid coughed the smoke he hadn't inhaled right at hearing this. When he recovered, he turned a half-glare that silently asked if he was stupid on him.

Then, as if to make it more obvious, he asked, "You fuckin' stupid?"

Genesis glared back, "I am beginning to think you may have a split personality disorder, pilot." He straightened up and gave a menacing step forward, "And if I were you, I would watch my words."

The blond snorted, rolled his eyes and said, as though this was the most obvious of things, "I was talkin' about the goddamned ship, you dumbass!"

Genesis cracked his neck and was about to retaliate with a sharp blade of words, when a figure appeared on the horizon and stole his attention.

The poet frowned and squinted and sure enough, he kept seeing a humanoid, winged figure approaching them at an alarming speed. His hand, instinctively, went to the hilt of his rapier.

"Relax," Cid said, blowing a cloud of smoke, "that's 'em."

The poet fell back into his 'relaxed' stance, but he kept his vigil sharp. Whoever the winged-creature was, Genesis could feel he was strong. Perhaps a fair match to his power, if he stretched it a little, of course.

Before long, two figures had landed on the deck. Now that the red-caped individual was closer, Genesis could see he was more human than monster, but not less ominous. Slowly, the wings that had decorated his back retreated with a sickly sound. His fangs grew back into normal teeth, as did one of his claws –while the other one remained golden, cold and threatening.

Now, before them, with a girl still on his arms, stood only a grim-looking man.

"Somethin' happened on your way 'ere, didn't it?" Cid asked, his demeanor less laid back than he'd been seconds before.

"We were attacked by—"

The girl –_the scientist, was it?—_ squirmed in his arms and promptly interrupted whatever the man was about to say. He stared at her for a second, but it was enough to allow Genesis to see guilt flash through his crimson eyes, before he gently put her down.

As soon as he did, the girl whispered a thank you before strolling towards them, a bounce to her step seemed to clash with the tensed atmosphere that had enveloped them.

"Cid Highwind," she said, a lazy smile forming on her lips, "I promised Reeve that I would not touch anything without your permission. So, I apologize for touching your deck with my feet without first asking if I could."

Cid rolled his eyes and slapped his forehead. Turning to the other male, he pointed at the woman and asked, "The hell's wron' with'er, Vincent?"

Vincent crossed his arms and explained curtly, "She took valium."

"Valium! VALIUM!" he snapped at Rie, throwing his cigarette out the side of the ship. Then, he stopped, frowned and asked, "The hell's that!"

Genesis chuckled softly. This was such an intriguing group! He hadn't had this much fun in… well, since he and Angeal had been kids playing in the Banora trees!

"Valium: a tranquilizer used to relieve anxiety and relax muscles. It acts by enhancing the inhibitory actions of the neurotransmitter GABA," Rie recited, "I used it to counteract my fear of heights."

"Oh," Cid said, "well that ain't so fuckin' bad, I guess."

"Except that, according to Reeve, it will impair her judgment when she checks on Tifa," intercepted Vincent.

The pilot, more sober now, turned to Genesis.

"Fix this," he said, pointing at Rie, "then take 'er to Teef."

This time it was Genesis' time to frown, "How am I to treat this exactly?"

"Well that's 'ur fuckin' job, aint' it! I 'ave to talk to Vinny 'ere, so I don't 'ave time to fix every goddamned thin'!"

With that the pilot signaled Vincent to follow and they were gone, leaving Genesis with –his eyes turned to the girl, who was now smiling solely at him—an interesting 'problem'.

_Why did I think this was remotely bad again? _He wondered, smiling smoothly at the mismatched eyed girl. Hell, even that odd scar across her eye added to her exoticness.

"My, I don't think we have been properly introduced," he gave a step towards her and took her gloved hand in his. "My name is Genesis Rhapsodos," he introduced while slowly, he slipped the leather glove off and brought her hand to his lips before she could protest. He kissed it gently. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

Rie smiled _druggedly_, he supposed, and replied, "My name is Rie. Should I kiss your hand now?"

Genesis' smile widened and a boom of laughter erupted past his lips. Well, this… he had not expected.

"No, that's okay," he said, releasing her hand and shaking his head. "Don't you have a last name to go with that lovely name, though?"

She stared at him for a couple of seconds, then she brought her hands to her neck and pulled a worn leather cord out of her shirt. Hanging from it was a broken silver tag, the sharp edges having been filed down, so that they were blunt now.

"This is all I know," she said, a whisper of sadness entering her voice, leaking through the haziness of the valium.

Genesis closed the distance between them. He reached out towards the object, but thought better of it and asked, "May I?"

She tilted her head and nodded.

He took it gently and inspected it thoroughly. For a second, time stopped to the point where even his breath caught in his throat. Though broken, Genesis could tell this was a ShinRa made tag, the carvings painted black over silver was clue enough. Plus, behind it, painted in a lighter black, he could make out part of the corporation's logo.

So this girl… was she… had they…?

The poet let go of the hurriedly made necklace. Though he wanted to ask, he wasn't sure if he wanted to hear the answer. So instead, he let the issue go.

"Is something troubling you?" she asked, breaking the awkward pause.

Genesis raised an eyebrow, "What gave you that impression?"

"The frown on your face."

He smiled.

"Nonsense! Shall we get going, then, my lady?" he asked, offering her his gloved hand. To his delight, she took it with a smile of her own.

As they walked through the ship, Genesis tried unsuccessfully to come up with a solution to the other problem at hand –get rid of the valium in the girl's body. Sighing, he was just opening the door to Tifa's room, intent on asking Sephiroth for input, when an option hit him like a lightning bolt.

The smile he had somewhat lost came back to his lips, so that when he opened the door, he ignored Sephiroth's questioning look and went straight to the bathroom, taking Rie with him.

"I apologize for what I am about to do, my lady," he said politely, pushing her lightly into the shower and…opening the _cold_ water.

The only time he had dealt with something similar to drugs –or Angeal had at any rate—was when he and Sephiroth had gotten drunk. Angeal had counteracted this by giving each a cold shower, so Genesis figured this may very well serve this time too.

The girl squealed and tried to move out of the pelting, but Genesis kept her in place. Seconds later, Sephiroth was inside.

"May I ask what you are doing to the woman who is supposed to check on Tifa?" his voice had an icy tingle that made Genesis _figuratively_—it would have been a mistake to let the man see it, after all- roll his eyes.

"I'm getting rid of the valium she took before coming, as Cid _asked_," the poet explained cheerfully, ignoring the fact that the pilot had given him more of an order than asked for a favor. Hell, the man needed a few lessons in politeness.

The General, with a loud sigh, reached out to twist the knob shut. Then he proceeded to pull Rie out and, without further delays, casted an esuna spell. The girl's body glowed green for a second, before her eyes –which had been somewhat unfocused—became sharp and alert.

It was all Genesis needed to know that the effects of valium had been _effectively _counteracted.

"Or I can do that too," the younger male muttered, wishing he had thought of that.

Sephiroth sighed again, while Rie crossed her arms and shivered, "Take off your cloak, Genesis."

Unsure but curious, Genesis did as told and handed him his red cloak, which Sephiroth, in turn, handed to Rie. He also handed her a towel that was hanging nearby.

"Take off your clothes and use this. When you're done, I will appreciate it if you take a look at Tifa Lockhart," Sephiroth said.

Receiving confirmation from Rie by way of a curt nod, he turned on his heels, grabbed Genesis by the arm, and dragged him out, closing the door behind them to give the girl more privacy.

"Cold showers only work for drunk and horny people," the General told him tiredly, before returning to his post beside Tifa.

"Well, they say it's good to learn something new every day," Genesis replied offhandedly, taking the empty chair that stood near the entrance door.

Well, how was he supposed to know that? At the time, his solution seemed pretty solid.

The shower came on again for a while, and Genesis figured that Rie might wish to rise her temperature first by soaking on hot water. Some time later, she came out from within the steamy room looking… well, looking like a girl pulled out of his innermost fantasies.

If he had thought that cloak had looked good on him before, now he had to seriously reconsider…

Perhaps Genesis had concealed his hungry look, or perhaps Rie was refusing to acknowledge it, because, unfazed, she strolled towards the bed where Tifa slept and set to work.

Genesis wasn't sure if he was feeling relief or disappointment. Still, his eyes –almost on their own accord- were glued to her as she carried out her task.

Taking various instruments out of a bag Cid had left nearby, she took blood samples, measured Tifa's temperature and did a number of other things with the concentration only a scientist could attain. Now and then, she would mumble something under her breath while jotting on a notebook, but not once did she look up from her work, or took the time to let them in on her findings.

Sephiroth, though Genesis could see he was curious, silently allowed her to continue uncontested. The poet figured that the other SOLDIER knew things would go much quicker if he saved his question for until she was finished.

Genesis, for his part, had quite a lot of trouble pushing away some tempting ideas that had nothing to do with Tifa or her situation. For a split second, he felt a bit ashamed about them, but –with the ease he was born with—he brushed aside those petty concerns.

Granted, he had Jenova cells swirling inside his body, but in the end he was human, wasn't he? And humans were, by their very nature, quite selfish creatures. And men, especially, were incredibly imaginative when they thought of the opposite sex.

So no, he was doing nothing wrong! He was simply allowing himself to taste the nature of what made him human and, above all, what made him a male.

"I need to bring some equipment from one of the labs in the ship," Rie said suddenly, interrupting his chain of inward excuses. "If we hook one of those machines to her dark fingers, we will be able to measure how the struggle's going."

"The struggle?" Sephiroth asked, mild concern showing, which meant that he was worrying as hell.

Rie nodded, "The darkness and the bruises," she pointed at the dark spots that had appeared in Tifa's inner part of her forearm, "are the result of her body's natural defenses fighting the Jenova cells she absorbed.

"As time passes by, the darkness should recede little by little on its own –if her body can keep fighting it, that is."

"Is there a way to help speed the process?" Sephiroth enquired carefully.

Rie turned back to Tifa, scratched her chin and then nodded, "In theory, we might be able to bleed some of it out."

"But you are not sure?" Genesis pointed out, just to be certain.

Rie shook her head, "This is quite new to me, but in theory, it should work. We just need to hook her up to the X-36P machine first in order to have a better reading. Otherwise, we might bleed the pure blood instead of the one tainted with Jenova cells. If we were to do that, we would unquestionably lower her body's ability to fight the threat."

Sephiroth nodded, "Fine. Take Genesis and bring the machine here."

Genesis scowled. Why were they all treating him like a servant all of a sudden! As if he didn't have things to—_okay_! He didn't have anything better to do, but still! The least these people could do was make him _believe_ he had a choice, right?

"Genesis," Sephiroth called, a very small tingle of a question on his voice.

"Relax! I'm going," he said, standing up and opening the door for Rie, "After you, my lady."

The girl tilted her head slightly to one side before stepping out. Once he had closed the door, he turned to find Rie looking at him questioningly.

"Yes?"

"Why do you call me that? As far as I know, I am not yours," she stated pointedly.

Genesis smiled, leaned a bit towards her and whispered seductively, "Yet."

Rie gave an instinctive step back, placed her hand atop her heart and frowned. Then, to his pleased surprise, she said something that he had not expected in a million –no, in a billion years.

"Strange. My heartbeat just accelerated out of nowhere," she said, her frown indicating that she was at a complete loss as to why it happened.

Genesis just raised both eyebrows and smiled. Well, well, throughout the years he had gotten only two different responses from the opposite sex. Nervous giggling or nervous denial. Yet, Rie had just opened up a category all to herself… and Genesis wished only to find out how else she differed from all the rest.

"We should get going," she said, breathing in and out slowly in order to lower her heart rate. "I will research what this means later."

Before Genesis could explain to her what happened, she was already walking away. With a Casanova smile on his handsome face, the poet followed her lead quite intently.

The following days were bound to be more interesting than he'd thought, and he didn't mind that at all…

**-o0o-**

**Sephiroth Crescent** took Tifa's darkened hand in between his. He pressed it gently, afraid that if he used the force his heart demanded, he would shatter her bones.

He leaned towards her, thankful for the moment of privacy he had been given, and kissed her forehead. He grimaced slightly when he felt her fever. Rie had injected her something to lower it, but it still raged as strongly as when he'd first laid her on the bed.

Taking out the towel from where he'd let it soaking in the cold basin of water beside her bed, he wiped away the sweat from her lovely face, before settling it –folded- on her forehead.

Leaning towards her again, he whispered in her ear, "Tifa… fight, love."

The last two words came out a plead and the tone startled the great General, for he had never heard it before –let alone used it.

The movement of her lips sent his heart racing, but her voice came in such a hushed whisper, he had to lean even closer in order to hear her.

When he did, he smiled with pride and hope.

"I am, love," she had said, and that was enough incentive for him to keep going –to keep hoping.

"Good," he conceded, "because I am waiting. I will always be."

The tired male sat back down just as the door opened and Genesis came through pushing a heavy machine as though it was made of paper. Atop of it, to his surprise, was Rie. She was sitting on the edge, legs on each of the poet's hips.

"You didn't have to slap me so hard, you know!" the younger male was saying, touching the red imprint Rie must have left when she had slapped him –with good reason, Sephiroth was sure.

"It was the only way to get your attention," she responded, pushing Genesis out of her way and jumping drown from her perch atop the machine. As soon as her bare feet touched the ground, she shivered slightly.

"After I even offered to carry you because you had no shoes!" Genesis chided playfully. Then he smirked, "And, just to set the record straight, you had my complete attention… believe me." Though he muttered the last two words, Sephiroth's enhance hearing managed to catch them loud and clear.

The General's lips quirked at the corner beyond his conscious control. Despite all that had happened –that was still happening, it was nice to have a banal brake now and then.

Rie, for her part, frowned, "Then why did you not listen to me when I pointed out you missed this room?"

Genesis's cheeks turned a slight taint of red. Clearing his throat, he danced around the issue smartly, "Where do I put this, anyways?"

"Right next to Tifa," she instructed, setting about to hook the machine after Genesis had settled it in place.

Sephiroth just watched silently, until the door opened to reveal two more visitors. It was the pilot and, if he was not mistaken, one of the strongest members of Avalanche, Vincent Valentine.

The gunslinger was tensed, vigil, but displaying no signs of hostility, which was enough for Sephiroth to feel at ease. Of course, he would not have made it to ShinRa's first class SOLDIER, if he was prone to readily lower his guard.

So he didn't.

He kept it up, but decided best to leave his weapon propped against the wall where he'd left it, else Vincent could take it as a hostile action instead of a defensive one.

As if having read everyone's minds, the pilot gave a step forward and glared at all of them, including the oblivious Rie, who was still busy hooking Tifa to the machine.

"I don't want no fuckin' trouble from any of you, y'all understand?" Cid grunted, looking at everyone and allowing his eyes to linger on Rie longer than on the rest. "Good. Teef doesn't need any more goddamned problems, and neither do I."

Sephiroth nodded curtly in understanding and stepped away from Tifa. Vincent must have figured out what he was trying to do, because as soon as he did it, the man nodded at him before making his way to Tifa's other side.

"Tifa," he whispered, holding her hand in his human one.

The general felt a prang of jealousy travel through him, but he did not allow himself to fall prey to it. Instead, he ignored it professionally and continued to look at them unfazed.

Vincent Valentine let go of her hand a couple of minutes later and stepped back. His crimson eyes then settled on Rie and he frown with confusion, probably at seeing her so scantily clad –for she had button the cloak only until mid-thigh in order to be able to move freely.

"Cid, do you happen to have a change of clothes from Shera that Rie could borrow?" the gunslinger asked.

Cid, just now noticing her clothes apparently, turned to Genesis, "Jus' what the hell did you do?"

Genesis's cheeks flared, "Get your mind off the gutter, old man."

Cid barked a short laugh, shook his head and left. Vincent, for his part, pinned Genesis with his gaze for a moment before switching it to Rie, who had just finished.

"It is done. I will explain to you what all of this means, if you are ready," she addressed Sephiroth, ignoring the two other males in the room for the time being.

The General nodded. He walked back towards her, quirking an eyebrow when he felt Vincent tense. But, by the time he turned to him, the gunslinger was seated near the door, as '_relaxed'_ as he'd been before.

After Rie had finished explaining everything and bleeding some of the tainted blood, Cid came in with a set of clothes that consisted of blue jeans and a long-sleeve white shirt. Rie went to the bathroom to get changed and, when she came out, she returned Genesis his cloak with a thank you.

"Well, Vinny 'ere s'gonna take you to the lab you'll be usin'," Cid told Rie, "We should be arrivin' at Reeve's HQ around midday tomorrow. Until then, just stay out of fuckin' trouble!"

With that, the newcomers and the pilot left, leaving him alone with Genesis and the comatose Tifa.

Once the door closed he spoke, "I'll be in my room if you need anything."

Sephiroth quirked an eyebrow in silent query, for there was more to it than the poet was letting on.

Genesis shifted his weight to his other foot and said, "Fine! I need a cold shower, satisfied?"

The General smirked, "Have fun."

This time Genesis did not stop himself before rolling his eyes. Sephiroth decided to let that one slide and watched amused as the poet sauntered out, leaving him alone with his woman.

Returning to his post beside her, he settled into a chair to continue his silent vigil over her, hoping that she would open her eyes soon –before all the rest of the avalanchers came, if possible.

He smirked, "Tifa Lockhart… it seems I am in urgent need of you."

Maybe it was his imagination, or maybe it was real, but for a split second, he could have sworn her lips quirked in a smirk of her own.

**-o0o-**

**Uriel **gazed at the figure of the broken Sephiel with a heavy heart. Not long after they'd returned, his brother had come to his senses, screaming in agony as his mind took in the damage his body had received. It had taken his and Oriel's strength to push him back onto the bed.

Unable to stand his agony, Uriel had done the only thing he could. He had knocked him out with morphine.

Now though, the hard part had begun not thirty minutes ago.

_Waiting_.

Uriel was waiting for Raphael to work his magic on his younger brother. But Raphael had sent Castiel for an ingredient he deemed necessary due to the extent of Sephiel's wounds. And thus, the waiting had begun.

Oriel and Jezbel, the ones he wish to hold responsible for what happened, were waiting outside –or rather, the girl was because the little midget had left a while ago when he'd gotten bored.

Had Uriel been anyone less peaceful, he would have punished the two of them for aiding Sephiel in such a stupid enterprise. But fact remained that, if there was anyone to blame, it was Sephiel and Sephiel alone.

And Uriel could not do that. He could not blame him. Ever.

He cared for him too much.

The door suddenly opened and in strolled a calm-looking Raphael. He smiled gently at Uriel and caressed his arm in consolation. Though the action seemed measured, it helped enormously in lifting his mood.

A pointed look, and Uriel stepped out of his way meekly, no words needed to understand the silent request.

"Castiel has arrived," Raphael announced, "he should be here… now."

As if on cue, Castiel came in. Unlike other times, his face was decorated by a frown of confusion that he was not even trying to hide. This was also, in and of itself, out of the ordinary in someone that was so naturally reserved.

Uriel's interest piqued, as did his concern.

Taking out a small vial of blood from one of his pockets, Castiel offered it to Raphael without a word. But his silence seemed to be saying more than his words ever could, for even the good Raphael wondered about it.

"Is something bothering you, child?" he asked, taking the vial but not doing anything else; his entire attention focused on the redhead.

The swordsman switched his weight from one foot to the other multiple times before he spoke.

"Who is she, Raphael?" he asked and, had Uriel not been present, he would have not believed his ears. Was that a plea uttered by the mighty Castiel?

"Come now, why do you wish to know?" Raphael demanded gently, as though he was talking to a small, scared child and not to one of his strongest warriors.

"She confuses me!" Castiel snapped, balling his hands into fists and getting as worked up as only Ariel would. "Every time I see her, I feel like there's something _missing_! Like I should know something I do not!"

Castiel slapped the side of his head and, just like that, a memory came to Uriel fast and sharp. It came stumbling back from the dark recesses of his mind, and he could do nothing but watch it play.

_Uriel had been sent to sweep the rest of the laboratory, searching for scientists to massacre as payment for what they'd done to his brother. Castiel had been retrieved from the watery cage he'd been held in by him and Raphael not too long ago. _

"_There's no one else," he murmured pleased and promptly made his way back to where he'd left the two men. _

_Before he had crossed the threshold, he stopped with curiosity and a strange sense of fear. His breath caught in his throat and he dared not make a sound to disrupt whatever was happening between the two fallen angels. _

_Castiel was standing completely still, as if his whole life had been frozen. Raphael had one of his hands spread on the forehead of his brother, his thumb and middle finger on each of his temples. A silvery light seemed to be glowing around both figures, more strongly on Raphael. _

_And then, the angelic figure retrieved his hand slowly and everything came back alive._

"—_to find… to find…? W-what was I… I…," Castiel's eyes were filled with confusion and he touched his head with slightly trembling hands, "What was I saying? WHAT WAS I SAYING?"_

_Raphael smiled tenderly and hushed him down, "You are in shock, my dear child. But worry not, you are safe now. I will keep you safe."_

_Castiel, eyes still somewhat unfocused, turned grateful eyes to the older male. He stared at him for a while, as his focus returned until he stood the strong warrior the scientist hadn't managed to break. _

_Slowly, the redhead nodded, "Yes. Thank you…brother."_

_Uriel, heart racing, pretended not to have seen anything as he stepped into the room, interrupting them. "The facility is clean." _

_Raphael smiled with satisfaction, "A deed well done. Come, my children, let us leave." _

_And with that, they both followed him out and into the moonlit night._

"Relax, my dear Castiel. Just know that you are loved and protected here," Raphael said in his melodic voice, caressing the man's cheek lovingly.

The redhead allowed himself to be placated. But Uriel could see he was not yet satisfied. The man was stubborn, and it would be unlike him to simply put something that was clearly important to him, aside. Not even for Raphael…

Hence Castiel, hiding behind his mask of indifference –like he always did- simply said, "I apologize. I do not know what came over me. With your leave, I will return to my training."

Whether Raphael believed him or not, he made no fuss about it. Instead, he inclined his beautiful head in authorization and smiled.

Understanding his dismissal had been granted, Castiel walked towards the door and, before he'd gone through, he added, almost as an afterthought, "Ariel needs attention. She was wounded in battle."

And he was gone.

"Ah, it seems poor Castiel has much on his mind. Oh, well. Uriel, be a dear and tend to Ariel," Raphael instructed, turning towards the sleeping Sephiel, "I will take care of our brother here."

Wanting to refuse, but not daring, Uriel did as told. This was Raphael after all, and though he held his secrets, there was no question in his mind, that he _loved_ them. And he would do everything to keep them from harm.

Yes, Sephiel was in good hands.

He was in Rapheal's hands now, and he would not let them down.

That was his way, after all…

**To be Continued… **

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**AN: **Well, please do not forget to let me know what you think so far by way of a **review. **It always makes my day to read from you guys. Also, if anyone's interested, there are new drawings for this fic. The links are, as always, in my profile.

Cheers!


	23. Murderer and Savior

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any of its characters. I am just burrowing them for a while.

**Author's notes: **Okay, so this chapter was longer than I had anticipated, so I was forced to break it in two. The good thing about this is that you got this chapter faster and the next one shouldn't take too long to write. Those who have been anxiously waiting for the reunion of Cloud and Sephiroth… well… **Enjoy!**

**New Ilustration**: Finally got around to drawing Ariel. You can find the link to her drawing in my profile. Now, I only need to draw Oriel and all the evil guys would have a face :p.

**Quick thanks to logged-on readers: **_.o0XxGurenxX0o., brokenmaelstrom, Ghedea, Sephiroth Owa13, CNome, TornAngelWings, , Goopy Sentimentalist, LunaNyx, BlackElement7, SharinganUserX, Krho, ColdWing90 _and_ Midnight Marquis._

**Quick replies to anonymous readers: **Me _(we all search for different things when we write. I suggest you do not judge what you cannot empathize. Just as I respect other writers and their demands or lack of them, so should you, don't you agree? Still, hope you continue to read and enjoy), _angelbeautiful12 _(Thank you very much for the review. I am glad you are enjoying the story and its pace. Indeed, Tifa deserves some love. About Vincent and Chaos… well, they are fun to write, simply because they are so interesting. So you'll be reading more about them as well. Hope you enjoy this chapter), _pearlwhite _(Thank you for the review. I also have a soft spot for Chaos, which is why he's the entity I used the most. As to the pace falling a bit, well, the last scene was crucial to the understanding of Raphael. It certainly wasn't as entertaining as the Rie/Vinny/Genesis one, but it was necessary. Hope you enjoy this chapter!), _

**Typos pointed out by**: CNome, Goopy Sentimentalist and PerlWhite.

**~Enjoy** and don't forget to **review**!

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"_Don't be ruled by guilt over what you've done. The past does not determine our future."_

_-Casshern (2004)-_

"**One Winged Angels"**

By: FenixPhoenix

**Chapter 23: "Murderer and Savior"**

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**Yuffie Kisaragi **walked slowly and carefully down the broken, old hall. She bit her lower lip as she held the tray filled with food and drinks steady, careful not to spill anything.

Wistfully, her dark eyes swept the contents of the plates and her stomach grumbled in anticipation. Man, she was so hungry, that she could probably eat an entire chocobo by herself –if chocobos were on her list of delicious food, that is.

"Okay," she whispered, halting once she was in front of Reeve's office. Her heart began to beat faster and, despite her efforts not to, she zeroed on the desert she'd chosen.

Strawberries and whipped cream.

Unbidden, an image of Reeve eating –_licking_ cream from her bellybutton flashed before her eyes. She gasped, but managed to partially recover before the wooden tray slipped from her suddenly weak hands.

Yuffie's breathing still turned short and shallow and her heartbeat accelerated to the point where her mind sent blood rushing to her face, which –yes, she didn't need Rie to point it out— was surely now as red as the damned strawberries.

"Oh, gawd!" she snapped, wishing there was a way to hid her face, even if there was no one around to see her this flustered.

Closing her eyes, the ninja took a moment to collect her scattered wits and derailed thoughts. Squaring her shoulders, she pushed the dirty, naughty, _tempting _images to the back of her mind and concentrated on breathing in and out profoundly.

"Get a grip, Yuffie," she chided. A sudden wave of confidence washed away enough of her embarrassment, to make her able to balance the tray in one hand while she opened the door with the other.

Well, she'd come this far, so she was not about to go knocking on his door and hoping he would let her in. She was going to eat with the man that had practically holed himself in this little, stupid office since he'd sent Vincent and Rie away, and that was final!

The image that greeted her called back the blush that she'd lost. Reeve, sitting behind his desk with his cell phone on his ear, was wearing a very thin, white, wife-beater that did not leave his muscles to the imagination.

It simply displayed them in all their glorious beauty…

Forcing her eyes to look up from his abs, she noticed he was looking at her –flustered and surprised, but not angry, which was a good thing. He opened his mouth and was about to address her, but the news he was receiving seemed to suddenly steal his complete attention.

As the man frowned and listened intently, Yuffie made her way to his desk casually. She set the tray in the edge of it and moved some of his papers around in order to make more room. Reeve, for his part, quirked an eyebrow at her but kept silent, which she approved of.

_I'm not taking no for an answer, Reeve, _she mouthed, plopping down on the seat opposite his and taking a quick bite out of the food on her plate.

Man, Aerith sure knew how to cook!

"Blood, you say?" Reeve enquired, draping one arm across his stomach and making his muscles bulge slightly.

Yuffie tried her best not to stare…much. But, man, those things were begging to be admired! Who knew Reeve was so well…_armed_. Before she could stop herself, she was already wondering if he was also well endowed down south of _his_ bellybutton.

"No. Don't," Reeve said, leaning forward on his desk, his tone decisive but quick.

Oh, man. Oh, man. OH, MAN!

The tone and words had played so marvelously well into her fantasy, that for a moment she feared he'd read her mind. When she was sure he hadn't, Yuffie bit down a groan, and hurriedly worked on dissipating her fantasy before it ripped a moan out of her.

Reeve, oblivious to her inner turmoil, continued his conversation unperturbed.

"Vincent, there are many things I still do not know about her. But I do know that if she feels pressure, she will withdraw from us. Trust me, we need to tread carefully. It took me more than half a year to convince her to even talk to me."

He continued to listen intently to Vincent and Yuffie leaned forward, wishing she knew exactly what they were talking about, for Reeve was hanging on the vamp's every word.

"I will deal with it when we finish dealing with the… more urgent situations. Meanwhile, just keep an eye on her, okay?"

Ah, so they were talking about Rie, that much she'd understood. But what about her…?

"Alright, I will see you tomorrow."

Reeve ended the call and sighed. He must have forgotten that she was there because when she cleared her throat, he turned to look at her surprised.

"What are you doing here, Yuffie?" he asked, not harshly just… resignedly.

"Is this the way you should greet your provider?" She pointed out, taking his plate and setting it in front of him. "You haven't had a proper meal since you've been hiding here. So I, unselfishly, went out of my way to bring you some food. Should've known how ungrateful you would be!"

Reeve smiled so beautifully, that Yuffie cursed inwardly the blush that indisputably made itself –once again—present on her cheeks.

"W-what?" she blurted quickly, nervously. GAWD! His smile was making her all giddy on the inside! He needed to be stopped and fast, before she pulled him across his desk and kissed him --among doing other things to him, of course!

The dark-haired scientist just shook his head, grabbed his fork and said, "Thank you for your kindness, Yuffie."

Reining her desire in like a savage chocobo –which is to say, with a _lot_ of skill-- the ninja shrugged. Faking nonchalance, she replied, "You're welcome."

After that, the meal continued in awkward silence. Before long, and to her pleasant surprise, Reeve started making light conversation and that awkwardness… it simply went away, leaving in its place a comfy atmosphere she did not wish to leave, even if eventually she would have to…

**-o0o-**

**Sephiroth Crescent **leaned back on his chair and heaved a sigh.

He knew things should be better. He knew he should be happy and at ease because Tifa was finally out of danger, the darkness of her fingers gone. And yet, he was not.

Sure, it was partly due to the fact that the woman had not woken up as he'd hoped she would. No. That was not true. It had _everything_ to do with precisely that. Because the multiple sources of his worry were linked –directly and indirectly—in one way or another with her. Specifically, with the _lack_ of her consciousness…

"So you will make me deal with them on my own, after all?" he demanded in a whisper that held both amusement and annoyance in equal amounts.

Another long and tired sigh escaped his lips as he pondered upon his unkind destiny. Having to face the man whom had hurt Tifa so much and whom he, Sephiroth, had in turn destroyed –psychologically speaking—was probably at the top of his 'never-to-do' lists.

If his situation did not demand it so, he would probably be keen on keeping that list intact and unaltered.

But life was never easy and thus there was no other way around the issue at hand. As much as he hated to admit it, Cloud could prove a very powerful ally. Then again, he could also turn out to be a very annoying hindrance –especially if he was still looking for payback for what he did to the Cetra.

_The_ _Cetra_…

Sephiroth had not thought about the woman since Tifa had forgiven him. It was a heavy memory upon his mind, for it was his most cowardly action committed while under the influence of Jenova.

It had been that event –when the steel of his replica's sword had tasted her blood—that he had been truly and undeniably _broken_. This particular victim's death –_perhaps because she had done nothing to try and defend herself?-- _had been a heavy burden upon him.

It was this what had truly transformed him into, not a murderer, but a _monster_.

A cruel and cowardly monster…

Jenova, naturally, had been all too happy to take advantage of this –of _him_. And as the grand fool he'd become, Sephiroth had simply allowed her to do it, to play him, to conquer him and wipe away all of what he'd believed in.

Until there had been nothing but a carcass, given life by Minerva and given meaning by Tifa…

The moment the memories of the forgotten city came flooding back, however, a sentiment seized him with an unshakable hold. More than anger, the General felt _disappointment_ at his own strength of mind.

Hell, if someone had told him he would kill Zack's girl in cold blood while the woman was praying --back before Genesis' rebellion and Jenova's whispering voice, of course-- he would have killed the person who dared spluttered such nonsense.

And yet, he'd done it. Sure, he may not have been there in person, but he'd still given the order, pulled the strings and watched.

Thus, that which he would've never believed had come to pass and no amount of denial, anger, disappointment or frustration could make this any less real, anymore fake.

The swooshing sound of the door opening blew away part of his concerns –while the other part lingered, clinging to both his mind and heart and creating… _uncertainty_.

"Sleeping beauty still sleeping, huh?" Genesis pointed out cheerfully and when Sephiroth looked at him, he noticed a knowing glint in his eyes.

Well, the poet was good at reading situations, he gave him that. However, this particular one was not that difficult to grasp. After all, everyone knew that he'd been counting on having Tifa –awake and by his side-- before meeting Cloud Strife.

"It's time, I take it," Sephiroth concluded, standing up and rubbing the muscles of his arms mechanically.

Shiva, the battle between annoyance and tiredness had ended and the former had definitely lost. He was sure that, if he sat back down and rested his head on Tifa's legs, he would most probably fall asleep like a baby.

Genesis, still standing near the door, nodded, crossed his arms and somewhat sobered up, "So… this Cloud, do you think he will bring us trouble?"

Sephiroth turned to the corner where his Masamune was leaning against the wall. For a split second he considered taking it, but his mind was quick to come up with more than a dozen of reasons why he shouldn't.

The first and foremost being that his weapon alone would project hostility, and since his mere presence would do enough of that, having a weapon in hand –the weapon which they had felt firsthand, to be precise—was simply not the brightest of ideas.

"Well, I did succeed in killing one of his friends, I almost destroyed the planet and I made no secret of wishing to drown him in a pool of his own blood," Sephiroth recited in a monotone, flinching inwardly at hearing his thoughts out loud.

By Siren's tune, if Cloud wasn't scheduled to arrive soon, he would probably be laughing at the irony of it all!

Never again would he doubt that destiny had a sense of humor –if a twisted one. After all, his enemies were now supposed to become his allies, while his allies had become enemies…

Odin, what a world has this place become!

"Oh, well…shit!" Genesis' blurted, proving his invaluable skills in linguistics. "Is there someone you did not try to kill which we need to befriend? Because at the rate we're going, this is going to take ages."

Sephiroth was unable to contain the smirk that quirked his lips, "Your ability to state the obvious never ceases to amaze me, Genesis."

The poet smiled devilishly, "Ah, and I see your ability to _antagonize_ people is still intact."

Though he would much rather continue this petty game with Genesis, Sephiroth knew that they needed to get going. It would be better to find a good spot in the conference room before the rest of the members arrived –especially since he wasn't in the mood to fight his way _into_ the room.

Now, what he had to take into account was that he would probably have to fight his way _out _of it…

_What will be, will be, _he thought resignedly and then, out loud, he said, "Let's go."

Sephiroth pushed the green button on the wall, and the door slid open upwards, showing an empty corridor behind it.

"Hey, aren't you forgetting something important?" Genesis asked.

"Ah, indeed," Sephiroth turned around, moved towards Tifa's bed, kissed the woman softly on the forehead and whispered, "I have to go. But I'll be back."

Genesis slapped his forehead when Sephiroth passed him by unconcerned, "I meant your sword!"

The General stopped, looked at Masamune and shrugged, "I do not need it. I have you."

The redhead gave him a look of surprise and he was barely able to keep his jaw from hanging open. Sephiroth, hiding behind a mask of stoicism, gave his back to him and stepped out of the room.

A couple of seconds later, he heard his comrade following. Genesis had overcome his obvious shock faster than he'd had anticipated. After all, Sephiroth never asked for help lightly, and neither did he made it a point to openly rely on someone else.

But Tifa had changed him. She had done so for the best too.

"Hey… so what makes you think I will help you?" Genesis taunted after a while, arrogant playfulness draping his voice.

Sephiroth smirked slightly, but did not grace him with an acknowledging look, "I don't really need your permission to get your sword."

"Ah, you think you can take it away from me?" It was a challenge, which was not surprising.

"No," he answered in all honesty.

"Huh?" Genesis frowned with confusion. "What then?"

Sephiroth's smile widened and this time he did turn to look at him, "I _know _I can take it, if I wanted to."

Genesis opened his mouth, ready to retaliate with a witty comment, but Sephiroth was done with games.

"I will not, however," he admitted, pushing the button to the conference room. The door opened, and a cold and steely room greeted him. Immediately, he felt the back of his neck being invaded by unwelcomed stress.

And though the sentiment was understandable and inevitable, he still did not like it. For once, the great General wished he could feel the calmness he'd learned to project.

He smiled mirthlessly. When had life ever given him a break? With that in mind, feeling what he could only describe as heavy resignation, Sephiroth stepped inside the room. Genesis, meanwhile, followed him swiftly, his attention unwavering as he waited for him to finish.

"Even if Cloud attacks me, I cannot retaliate," Sephiroth explained grimly, choosing to sit on the furthest couch that was partially draped in shadows.

Might as well take the best strategically positioned place. The walls on the back and side would keep his attention divided only in two directions if he were to be attacked. Nonetheless, he doubted he would be able to stand his guard in one place for too long.

After all, these people were the ones who had _defeated_ him, and he dared not forget or ignore that powerful fact.

"How come?" the poet pursued the issue, leaning on the wall nearby and crossing his arms. Despite the fact that his pose seemed laid-back, Sephiroth noticed the rigidness of his muscles. It told him that the SOLDIER was ready to leap into action at the first sign of trouble.

The knowledge of this eased some of his jittery nerves.

"Harming Cloud would cause Tifa pain and that is something I am not willing to do, even if I am justified."

"Ah, they're good friends then?"

Sephiroth stopped himself before revealing the information that still sent an arrow of jealousy –of pain?—right through his heart. They had not been only friends. They had been lovers –even if the love they'd shared had been an unbalanced one.

So rather than give the man half-truths, Sephiroth kept his mouth shut and permitted Genesis to make his own mind about it.

And as they waited in tensed silence, the General could not help but lament, for the tenth time that day, Tifa's absence.

**-o0o-**

**Cid Highwind **fingered his unlit cigarette nervously before finally placing it behind his ear.

Shit! Shit! SHIT!

Why hadn't Tifa woken up!

Shiva knew that, if Sephiroth hadn't been in the room when he'd checked on her, he would have probably grabbed a bucket of water and emptied it on her face!

Goddamn it!

They –no, fuckin' scratch that, _he_ needed her!

Tifa was the only one who could calm the storm that was coming. Hell, Cid was sure he could handle say… Yuffie, Barret, Nanaki and Reeve but Cloud was another thing entirely. And Sephiroth? Well, he fuckin' didn't even want to think about him!

"So when you call Reeve and asked for me, it was not just for Tifa, was it?" Vincent's voice coming from behind him made him literally jump, his heart leaping out of his ribcage.

The pilot, stressed and now fuckin' embarrassed, scowled at the red caped figure. Fuckin' Vincent! The man was like a ghost when he wanted to. How the hell could he walk with those fuckin' ugly, steely shoes without making a goddamned sound, anyways?

"Y'damn right!" Cid decided to be honest. He had no fuckin' time to think up excuses anyways, "I need someone who's able to think fuckin' rationally on m'goddamned side!" He turned to look at Vincent straight in the face and said somberly, "If chocobo-head does somethin' stupid, I can count on you to… ya know… knock'im out, right?"

Vincent, amusement twinkling in the depths of his mako eyes, only quirked a perfect eyebrow in response. But words were not necessary. Cid knew that Vinny had his back, and he trusted he would enforce order before things got out of fuckin' hand.

And if he didn't?

Well, he would fuckin' kill'im!

"I'll head to the conference room," the gunslinger informed shortly before he'd pretty much just fuckin' disappeared out of thin air.

Shit! Cid could never stop being amazed at the speed the beasts inside Vincent gave him. Hell, sometimes he wished he too had a fuckin' Chaos providing some fuel to get away from certain situations. Particularly when those situations involved a _certain_ female with _certain_ unbalanced hormones…

Or an unbalanced Cloud too…

As his second in command landed the ship, the cargo door opened to reveal a crowd of ex-avalanchers plus --_oh,_ _great! fuckin' Turks_ waiting for him. It clicked suddenly that Vincent, the trusty companion that should have his back, had just fuckin' _bailed_ on him.

"Fuckin' vampire!" he grumbled, scowling as Yuffie came sprinting up the ramp.

"Where's Teef? Where's Teef?!" she demanded, looking around as though he'd hid her behind his back. Cid rolled his eyes and pushed her away roughly.

Oh, shit!

He must have used more force than he'd thought, because she pretty much crashed against Reeve. Thankfully, the man seemed prepared, because he barely moved as he caught and steadied her.

Crackin' his neck, Cid took a moment to reinforce his mind before addressing the mismatched crowd of friends and ex-enemies.

"'Kay! Shut up, keep your fuckin' weapons sheathed and follow me," he ordered, looking at everyone sternly. "That goes for you too, carrot top!"

Reno, a lazy smile on his face, raised his hands as if in surrender and put the gun he'd been polishing away.

"There won't be any problems from us, you have our words," Rude vowed, placing a hand on Reno's shoulder.

The redhead sighed but complied with the unvoiced request, "Yeah, no problemo." He raised one hand and placed another atop his heart, "Turk's word."

For his sanity's sake, he decided to take the stupid man and his fuckin' promise seriously.

"Ya better," Cid grunted and he was about to turn around and lead the way, when a movement of pink fabric he'd caught out of the corner of his eye, made him fix his attention on the person standing beside Cloud.

_By fuckin' bahamut's horns!_

His eyes widened.

Vincent had warned him about this but…damn! The surprise was too much to bear stoically.

"I'll be damned," he whispered, taking a couple of steps towards her, his mood lifting out of the murky waters of his mind.

Aerith smiled. It was that same smile she always had, like she was holding some kind of secret, and met him halfway. Before awkwardness could settled between them, she'd wrapped her arms around his neck and was hugging him.

Mild suspicion gave way to relief and happiness, and he hugged her back heartily.

Shit! He didn't really care what the hell was goin' on anymore! He was fuckin' content with this new and changed world!

"It's fuckin' good to have ya back," Cid whispered coarsely, slapping her cheek softly –it was the best way in which he managed to show his affection.

Aerith chuckled, "It's good to be back, Cid."

Cid nodded, cleared his throat, resumed his scowling and said, "Come on!"

With that, he lead the way, trying his best not to let them know how fuckin' scared he felt…

**-o0o-**

**Genesis Rhapsodos **tensed his crossed arms in order to keep himself from gripping the hilt of his rapier when the door opened. When only Vincent Valentine came in, he relaxed again…somewhat.

Turning to Sephiroth, he found the man had barely made a move of acknowledgement.

_How the hell does he do it?_ He couldn't help but wonder as he studied his calm profile.

Sephiroth was sitting with one ankle resting across his knee, arms on each arm-rest, displaying what Genesis already knew, that every muscle of his body was loose and relaxed.

Man, these people wanted to kill Sephiroth and the man was just… sitting there quietly while he, who should fear nothing, could hardly contain his tension.

Smirking, Genesis shook his head with awe.

_This is why you were always better,_ he conceded with inward melancholy. This was the reason why Genesis could never defeat Sephiroth.

"Has anyone seen Rie?" Vincent's inquiry snapped him out of his deep pondering. His whole attention came to rest on the gunslinger. The warrior stood with his claw on his hip and a stoic expression on his pale face.

Genesis realized that he hadn't been able to truly read the man since he'd met him. In silence, he commended his ability to hide in plain sight.

"I believe she's still on the laboratory running some tests," Sephiroth answered, leaning his head on his right fist as if he was comfortable enough to fall asleep at any moment.

Genesis berated himself before the idea of leaving to go and find her could fully materialize in his head. The ship had landed a while ago and he knew Cloud and his group where bound to arrive soon.

As tempting as it was, leaving Sephiroth alone would only earn him the man's wrath. Plus, they'd made so much progress, that Genesis would hate having to go back to square one in order to earn the older SOLDIER's trust again.

Still, his desire to leave would not be so strong, had he been allowed to spend more time with the intriguing female. Genesis hadn't seen Rie since she'd checked on Tifa early that morning and announced that she was finally out of trouble.

Naturally, feeling playful and curious, before the woman had left to get back to her work, Genesis had offered himself as a 'test subject'. His exact words had been, _you can study me anytime, Rie._

It was a shame that she hadn't understood the double meaning of his words, especially since she'd seemed so excited about the prospect of studying him.

Genesis eyebrows raised in surprise at a sudden realization hit him. Now that he reflected upon it, he had probably gotten himself into a very sticky situation…

"I'll go get her, then," Vincent offered, his eyes meeting Genesis for a second.

The poet trained his face into a mask of nothingness, hiding the scowl that had almost made its way into his face. Yes, even if he didn't do it as much, he too could hide himself. Still, the SOLDIER couldn't impede the instinctive groan and dangerous growl he gave in his head.

So Vincent was going to _get_ her, huh?

Well, that was plain unfair! The man seemed just as relaxed as Sephiroth! So, if someone had the right to _get_ her, it was Genesis!

Why?

Because his every muscle was as tensed as a bow, which meant that he was the one who needed the distraction the most.

Genesis knew for a fact that he could use Rie's innocence to blow the extra steam that was disrupting his energies! The girl just had such an innate ability to lift his mood, that he'd pretty much tagged her as a medicinal solution for his heart and soul.

A medicine which he needed, _wanted_ right now. Badly.

A couple of steps later, the door opened to reveal Cid. The pilot glared at Vincent, who only quirked an eyebrow in silent query.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" the blond asked in a hiss, his eyes landing on Sephiroth and Genesis for only a second, before his blue gaze pierced Vincent.

The former turk sighed, shrugged –_was that a minuscule look of defeat?--_ and walked back to his original spot near one of the windows.

Genesis would have smiled in victory, had his breath not caught on his throat when the crowd that was following Cid filed in…

By Tonberry's light, there was a very _big_man who had a very _big_ gun instead of an arm! And that orange tiger was currently showing some extremely sharp, wicked-looking set of teeth. Not to mention that there was also a blond guy –_I_ _guess that's Cloud_—with a huge weapon that seemed ready to deal some damage.

In fact, that weapon strongly reminded him of Angeal's –later Zack's—sword…

_Wait, I know you! _The memory of what had happened after his fight against the pup came to mind. Zack had pulled his strange group –including him-- together under one tree and handed them a Banora apple.

Genesis smirked.

Cloud had been there with them, though he hadn't said a word.

Ha! What a small world!

Pushing the memory to the back of his mind for the time being, he focused on Cloud's new group. In all honesty, the majority looked menacing enough to keep him from feeling at ease.

Involuntarily, Genesis whistled softly in an attempt to give voice to his stumbling thoughts. No wonder these people had defeated Sephiroth.

It was shortly after that that the poet realized that, though his whistle had been low, he'd been able to hear it perfectly… so had everyone else in the room. Sure enough, one quick scan displayed that all the newcomers –without exception-- were looking at them.

At first, there had only been silence which was quickly filled with tension. Now, that tension had long since paved way for anger and fear. A lethal combination that could turn even the coolest mind into a berserk brute!

And, predictably, it soon happened.

In mere seconds, chaos broke the hold of shock.

Curses mixed with the sound of weapons being unsheathed became the soundtrack of the event. Genesis, thanks to his years of experience, fell right into tune. With lightning quickness he unsheathed his hybrid sword and, without conscious thought, he positioned himself between Sephiroth and the hostile avalanchers.

It happened in a second.

While everyone else seemed to be battling their hesitation, one man took immediate action.

Cloud, weapon unsheathed and outstretched, launched himself towards Genesis, but his blue-mako eyes were glued to the seated figure of Sephiroth.

"Get out of my way," he seethed, sparing him a glace.

Genesis smiled, his nervousness forgotten, as he regarded the powerful warrior. Now, this would be fun.

"If you want to harm him, you'll have to go through me," Genesis informed, getting ready to receive the attack that was soon to come.

When the slash of the weapon came, however, it was not his rapier that met it.

The echo of steel clashing against steel resonated in the room with mighty force. And as it dwindled, only silence remained.

"W-what are you doing, Cid!" Cloud demanded, hot anger present in his strained voice.

Cid's frigid eyes met the fiery ones of the leader he'd followed three years ago. With a grunt, he pushed the swordsman away and straightened up from his semi-crouched position in front of Genesis.

"I said you should all fuckin' sheathe your goddamned weapons! Or was I not clear?" Cid shouted, his face tainted red by simmering anger.

"What the hell are you doing, Cid!" Cloud persisted. Pointing the tip of his sword at Sephiroth, he gave his first blow, "He's the one that almost obliterated us all! He's the one who killed Aerith! He's the one who we struggle to kill for more than a year!"

"Do you think I don't fuckin' know that!" the pilot countered. "Shit! Aerith is standin' right fuckin' there!"

"He still killed her!" Cloud persisted.

The door suddenly opened and in came a pregnant Shera balancing a trey with various cups of hot tea. Rude, who was nearby, was quick to take the tray away from her, when surprise almost made her drop it.

"Oh, my!" She said, looking at Cid with profound worry and… fright.

Her expression may have reminded Cid of what had happened when she had been taken hostage, because the pilot paled a couple of shades.

Slowly, Cid lowered his weapon and tore his gaze away from his spouse.

"I'm sorry, Aerith," he said, looking at her. Then, his gaze switched to Cloud and he said, "But he's fuckin' made up for what he'd done in my book."

"What the hell are you talking about, Cid! He could never make up for what he did! Never!" Cloud flared, his knuckles becoming white as his grip tightened around his sword.

Nearby, Aerith tried to pacify him, but Strife shook her hand away from his shoulder roughly.

Cid too, flared, "He saved m'girls and my lil' boy, you moron!"

"W-what?" Barret was the one who broke the pause.

Cid sighed.

"Where the fuck where we when Tifa needed us, huh?" Blue eyes swept the room, but none spoke up. "I'll tell you. We weren't fuckin' there! She would've died had _he_ not been there!"

He pointed his finger at Sephiroth, who was listening in complete stillness. Genesis could read surprise in the depth of his azure gaze, however. It was possible that he had not expected Cid to come to his aid.

"When we were attacked, I saw'im protect Teef with my own fuckin' eyes! And when Sher--," his voice left him and his eyes filled with tears that he was fighting to keep in. "When my Shera," his voice trembled with emotion, "and my lil' boy were attacked. When they were fallin' from the fuckin' sky and I could do nothing but fuckin' watch… they too were saved. By the fuckin' same man who'd turn psycho on us three years ago, yes!

"So, you damn right, Cloud," Cid's eyes met blue ones again, "he fuckin' made it up for me. Because where the fuck were you when m'family needed you? Where were you when Teef needed you goddamn it!?"

"I…," guilt put out the fire in Cloud's eyes, but he still clutched at his weapon fiercely.

"You –_we_ weren't there for her," Cid continued in a calmer tone of voice. Looking at them all, he threw _his_ punch, "but _he_ was. So put your fuckin' weapons away or I'll fuckin' throw you out of m'ship!"

Aerith, the first to recover, moved towards Cloud and placed a hand on his naked shoulder. This time, the man did not brush her hand away. Instead, he turned to her with eyes filled with pain and guilt.

"He killed you," he whispered with a dry throat, eyes begging for her understanding.

Aerith smiled melancholically and shook her head. Then, slowly, she gave them the biggest shock of the day.

"He did not kill me, Cloud," green eyes turned to look at the tense figure of Sephiroth, "He tried to save me."

When Genesis' eyes jumped back to the older SOLDIER, he found something which he had never thought he would see in him. For in his mako eyes, swirling frantically through its depths, was shock, surprise, confusion and then, lightning them the most, was _hope_.

**To be continued…**

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**AN: **So, I've been very inspired to draw lately, which is why I want to ask you this: Is there a scene in this fic. you wish me to illustrate?

Anyhow, please do not forget to make my day and **review**!


	24. Hidden Purpose

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any of its characters. I am just burrowing them for a while.

**Author's notes: **Ah, this was a long and difficult chapter to write. I have taken a creative license with this, which I hope you all understand. Also, my semester has begun, so I will try to have the next chapter soon, but I can't make any promises. Bear with me :), please.

~ **Enjoy!**

**Quick thanks to logged-on readers: **_Writer Chica, brokenmaelstrom , Ghedea, ObsidianPhantom , ObsidianPhantom , Sephiroth Owa13, IWOBYD, .o0XxGurenxX0o., butterfly-aquamaiden28, SharinganUserX, Galiriol, CNome, Riiiceballe, Krho, ali6220, Eva Von Dee _and_ Slyefoxfury._

**Quick replies to anonymous readers: **Someone! _(Thanks!), _pearlwhite _(Thank you! I am glad you liked the chapter. Indeed, Genesis is too fun to write and I am glad you approve of Cid's actions. Also, thanks for the typo. I think you are going to enjoy this chapter!), _Shadow Blackheart _(Thank you! I am glad you too enjoyed Cid's actions. And yes, Cloud can be really blind sometimes, but hopefully he'll make up for it later on. Enjoy this chapter!), _

**Typos pointed out by**: _Shadow Blackheart, Goopy Sentimentalist, Ex Oxide_ and _CNome_.

**~Enjoy** and don't forget to **review**!

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**Story's notes (IMPORTANT, please read):** Okay, a quick clarification before anyone points it out. In this chapter Jenova is referred to sometimes as 'she' and sometimes as 'it'. It is not a mistake, just a way of regarding her. Aerith thinks of it as an 'it'. The rest sometimes as 'she' and sometimes as 'it'. For, let's not forget that they used to think Jenova was a Cetra.

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"_We should all learn to live together as brothers, or we shall all perish together as fools."_

_-Martin Luther King Jr.-_

"**One Winged Angels"**

By: FenixPhoenix

**Chapter 24: "Hidden Purpose"**

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**Aerith Gainsborough** squeezed Cloud's shoulder in reassurance, before making her way to the center of the room.

Shiva, she was nervous. Her legs were trembling and it was by sheer will that she was able to keep standing.

But it was time.

As she stood there, feeling oh so very vulnerable, she placed her palms on the sides of her legs, half-opened, gripping, tensing, a silent reminder that she had to stay strong.

For an instance, she could have sworn she felt Minerva's gaze on her as she coached herself to spill the Planet's secrets. It was very possible that the Goddess would disapprove of her decision, but they needed unity, and Aerith had the key to giving them just that.

So she was done with secrets, she was done with hiding.

Yes, the time was now. The place was here.

And so she swallowed her fear and stood defiant before them all –those present and those who watch from another place, a place where mortals rarely intruded upon and came out unharmed…

"I think it's time for me to confide what I know," she told them, waiting until every eye was on her; until the shock of her news had dwindled enough to earn her their undivided attention. "Everything has a hidden purpose. All we have done and all we will do is supported by the planet's energy. There is nothing the planet does not know, especially of things and events that concern Jenova.

"The first-class SOLDIER's rebellion, Sephiroth's breakdown, Zack's death… our entire plight of three years ago… the planet knew it all, saw it all, guided it all… Our meeting, our futures…my demise…," Aerith's eyes fixed on Cloud for a moment longer than on the rest, "they are no exception."

"What are you saying?" the swordsman asked, brow marred, eyes filled with confusion and –yes, underneath it- incredulity.

Aerith attempted a smile, but her lips quirked only half-way and she ended up with a sad grimace instead.

Yes, she'd known it for quite a while now. Everything was a strategic move from the Planet, and those caught in between were nothing but pawns. Even she, the last Cetra, had been but one of many pieces that had been moved across the board.

She –they were nothing else, nothing more…

Of course, the reasonable side of her understood that the sacrifice of a few meant nothing if it would ensure the wellbeing of millions, but the knowledge didn't make the acceptance of this any easier. She doubted that half of those standing with her right now would be as swift to accept the…what? What should she call this…_this_ thing?

If there ever was a _burden _of truth, it was this… So she had her answer. It was a burden. A horrible and terrible burden she had carried for far too long…

When the pause began to oppress her –threatening to push her to the ground—she cleared her throat and got ready to start pulling the blindfold off of their eyes. She had to do it carefully and smoothly, however, else she would set a whirlwind of sentiments free inside them and lose them to a heated bout of anger.

It was thus that she began what was to be a lengthy and difficult explanation.

"The first warning came when ShinRa's scientific team excavated the caged remains of Jenova. The Planet, realizing this, decided to do nothing but wait and watch. That is, until it felt one of its children being _tainted_ by Jenova. That child's name was Lucrecia Crescent."

Aerith noticed two individuals perking up at the name. One was Vincent Valentine, pain evident in his eyes, the other was Sephiroth, who displayed an intense curiosity for a second, before hiding it from view.

Nodding once to herself, she continued, "In an attempt to stop this unwelcomed change before it evolved, the lifestream entered Lucrecia's body and began sending her multiple warnings-"

"The visions," Vincent interrupted with an odd strain in his voice.

Aerith, not knowing how to properly respond to Vincent's mood, nodded his way before expanding on that.

"Yes. Professor Lucrecia saw blinks of the future, of the havoc her son would wreck upon the world." She made it a point not to look at Sephiroth as she said this, "But these were not enough. Lucrecia was not strong –or perhaps cruel—enough to stop her pregnancy and Sephiroth was born. Searching forgiveness for her weakness, Lucrecia sought the Planet's voice. And the lifestream… given body and voice by Minerva, appeared before her and sent Lucrecia to a cave, ordering her to seal herself…"

"The crystal cave," Red XIII interceded, looking at Vincent for a second before his feline eyes switched to her again. "But what for?"

"Perhaps the Planet wished to purify her," Genesis offered nonchalantly. When some people –a solemn Valentine among them- gave him skeptical gazes, he elaborated, "Well, it is a plausible reason, is it not? After all, I believe that's why she ordered me to seal myself –if the absence of my degradation is any indication."

"Perhaps," Aerith agreed but, truth be told, she was still unsure. There were many things that were still a mystery to her, even after having become part of the Planet. "Needless to say, from thence onwards, the Planet stood watching, waiting and preparing…

"This passive stand, however, soon turned into an active one when the Planet perceived the first direct attack against it. It happened when the lifestream's flow was suddenly disrupted by hostilities between two Jenova holders. It was a clash so powerful, that it awakened the dormant alien."

"Our practice," Sephiroth stated, looking at Genesis through the corner of his eyes. Whatever the two SOLDIERs communicated through that one look, left the redhead looking grim.

For the sake of everyone who was getting lost at this point, she proceeded to shed some light –dim as it might be—into the issue.

"Indeed. When Genesis was wounded, lifestream sipped inside his body and began attacking his awakening Jenova cells."

Genesis' eyes widened, "Hold it! Bear with me as I try to make proper sense of this. What you are saying is that …the degradation, _my_ degradation… it wasn't _caused_ by Sephiroth but by the Planet?"

Aerith nodded, feeling a sudden urge to apologize. The man's eyes held a glint of disbelief and of betrayal so strong, she wanted to give a step back and shield her heart.

Yet, she didn't.

Instead she steeled herself against the wave of emotions, and proceeded to clarify, "It had to be done." Odin, that sounded like a hollow excuse even to herself! "You see, the human nature to survive plus your degradation gave way to the first class SOLDIERs' rebellion, thus stopping all projects concerned with Jenova cells and, with it, halting the birth of future threats.

"As the rebellion continued, the Planet waited, expecting the Jenova hosts to kill each other, but, as we know it now, it didn't quite happen that way…

"The Planet was forced to step back and wait for the next opportunity, taking a defensive position instead of an offensive. Jenova's next attack came when Sephiroth fell into the lifestream with her excavated cage. There were no open wounds in his," she glanced at him, "in _your_ body for the lifestream to sip through and attack the cells that were slowly but surely gaining strength. With the Planet unable to breach into your mind, soul or body, it once again, stepped back.

"Jenova, for its part –starting to adapt to its new host—attacked by spreading its cells, injecting them into the Planet's core." Aerith kept her eyes on the seated figure of Sephiroth as she continued, "Having tainted the lifestream and absorbed some of its vast knowledge, Jenova trapped you, Sephiroth, in a mako cage to strengthen your body even more."

The quiet warrior nodded curtly and, intertwining his long fingers, he described somberly, "She linked my mind with the Planet's and I was the one who extracted the most important knowledge and gave it to her." He smirked bitterly and said in a lower tone, almost as an afterthought, "For four years I did this..."

Sephiroth's tone denoted the barest hint of remorse in those last few words, and Aerith couldn't help but wonder how much heartache the memories truly caused him. She'd heard about him before all of this happened, Zack had been keen on telling her grand stories about his prowess and vast campaigns. In each and every one, he'd been a hero and a model to look up to.

But, oh, who could have predicted that the untouchable, seemingly unstoppable figure would become a tragic character in the Planet's play? Who could have foretold that the Planet's strongest defender would become its biggest threat?

Casting the morbid thoughts aside for the time being, Aerith retook her tale, "With Sephiroth lost, the Planet needed another warrior –someone who had enough Jenova cells to give him strength, but which were not adapted enough in him to conquer him. Amidst the search, she found two candidates…"

"Zack," Cloud whispered, realization hitting him like a bucket of cold water, leaving him paler than normal.

"And you," Aerith finished what he hadn't. "Thus, Genesis' rebellion, Sephiroth's loss and your's and Zack's capture gave way to _opportunity_.

"Set by the Planet through the hand of Minerva, Zack Fair was directed to fight Genesis-"

"And the pup won, even though I was garnering and using the lifestream," Genesis conceded, a tingle of amusement draping his voice. "I feel a little bit better knowing that his victory had been planned by a bigger force at the very least."

Aerith smiled at him, amazed at how easily the man was accepting all of this.

"Yes, he won," the need to correct him on one assumption was too strong to ignore, so she didn't, "but you should know that the lifestream _cannot_ be used without the Planet's _approval_."

Genesis tilted his head to the side in a shallow bow. It was a sign of understanding and, more interestingly, of consent.

"Wait…ah, you mean like… the Planet wanted him to think he was using its resources even though it was the Planet's plan all along?" Reno asked, a deep frown marring his brow.

"The hell! You're not makin' any sense, so shut it!" Barret's voice rumbled in response. Crossing his arms, he glared at the Turk, who only glared back.

Aerith decided to intervene before bullets started flying.

"Allow me to explain. You see, Genesis was willing to serve the Planet, and it knew this. But the Jenova cells inside him were strong enough that, eventually, they _would_ rebel. Thus the Planet, in order to stop this inevitable fate, decided he needed to be humbled… weakened," Aerith said, hoping she wasn't confusing them even more.

Odin, now that she heard herself speaking out loud, she wondered why she'd thought it was so straightforward when she'd filed it in her head.

"Which is why Minerva was there after Zack defeated me," Genesis, unsurprisingly, followed along nicely, eyes alight with understanding. He smirked and shook his head, probably surprised at realizing how thoroughly he'd been played.

"Yes. By orders of the Planet, like she did with Lucrecia before, Minerva convinced you to seal yourself in a mako cage while the lifestream worked on not destroying, but _transforming_ the cells inside you so that you would use them to protect the Planet," Aerith explained. Then, locking her hands behind her back, she started walking to and fro, scanning the crowd of quiet warriors, trying to decipher which ones were bound to turn hostile.

When she was certain all of them, even Cloud, were successfully controlling their emotions, she chose to put one of the final pieces of the puzzle out there. It was the perhaps the piece that would take them the longer to accept…

For a split second, she hesitated. The following move would either break them or make them and she was hoping –with all her heart—that the outcome would be positive.

Taking a breath and forcing herself to not fall to her knees and beg forgiveness right then and there, she said, "What followed was a domino effect. A journey guided by the Planet _for_ the Planet."

"Zack's death…" Cloud spoke, a hint of anger showing amidst the confusion in his voice. Aerith knew what he was trying to get at and tensed.

"Inevitable," she said, keeping her voice low and strong, else they would pick up the trembling in it. "Do you think that our encounter, the assembling of avalanche… that it was all _coincidence_?Do you think that Vincent's awakening was a _coincidence_? That his ability to control Chaos by way of the protomateria given to him by Lucrecia was not a strategic move from the Planet?

"No. Everything was thought up carefully. _Everything_ was molded to the Planet's wishes. All was structured for its defense, for the fight ahead, for that one chance of ending it all or perishing trying..."

"What are you saying! For what chance?" Yuffie interrupted, opening her arms in a gesture of resignation and frustration at not understanding what was so clear…

Aerith turned to her and half-smiled sympathetically. Truth was, she wanted to cry… she wanted to do it so very bad.

_Get a grip,_ she chided before the desire could translate into actions.

Sighing, she made her confession, "Two men needed to break so that the Planet could get a warrior capable of dealing with Jenova."

From the corner of her eye, she saw the General tense. Yes. He had already made the connection. Perhaps he'd made it even before she'd put it out there and he'd only been waiting for confirmation.

With cold fear, she wondered if he would snap…

"Sephiroth –Jenova's strongest warrior—needed to be crippled in order to be defeated. His strongest asset needed to be taken away from him…" she said, pausing to swallow the sudden lump obstructing her throat.

She didn't need to finish that sentence. Someone did it for her.

"His mind," Genesis interceded with surprise, casting a glance at the other SOLDIER, who was hiding his emotions professionally. The Planet had not been wrong. Sephiroth's value did not only reside in his physical prowess… but in his sharp and strategic mind. After all, he hadn't been deemed ShinRa' genius of war just for publicity.

Wishing to keep going before her increasing fear rendered her silent, she continued.

"The other man that needed to break was," she turned to Cloud, "_you_."

His eyes widened.

"Why…?" the swordsman asked in a tenuous whisper, one that was holding anger at bay while hoping to receive an adequate explanation. In low voices, the selfish part of Aerith wondered if what she had to say would be enough to keep him from feeling betrayed…

Her logical part, though, doubted it would be so easy.

"Cloud, you were trapped in dream, in a waking illusion. You needed to regain your sense of being to reach your true potential," before he could say something else, she raised her palm to stop him. What she had to say next was hard enough as it was.

Swallowing saliva in order to quench her suddenly dry throat, she said, "This…this is where I played my part… Obediently following the Planet's orders…," despite her efforts to keep strong, her emerald eyes glazed with tears.

_Shiva, give me strength!_ She pleaded as her eyes tightened and throat constricted even more. Her breath became labored as her lungs worked twice as much to be filled with air.

Had someone turned off the air conditioner? Could a window not be opened?

By Ifrit's fire, she was drowning!

Closing her eyes, she managed to say in a coarse whisper filled with an apology she could not voice, "I… I _broke_ you both."

"W-what are you saying, Aerith…" Cloud was talking in a whisper too. When she finally looked at him, she found his eyes harder, his knuckles white, his body as stiff as a bow.

A sob shook her.

He was in pain. She had caused him pain… _again_! Why could she not spare him? Why could she not protect him? Why must the man she love be the one she made suffer the most?

"She's saying her death was not what it seemed," Reeve clarified for her, dark eyes piercing her right where she stood.

Aerith, shaking uncontrollably, covered her eyes. And inevitably, her emotions exploded inside her in utter chaos. Again, she tried to reign in the tears, but this time she was not strong enough to do it, and thus they rolled down her cheeks.

Her soul was bleeding, her heart was hurting… she'd kept this for far too long and, noticing the looks of unbelief in her friends' faces, she wondered, for the first time, if she'd made the right call.

_I cannot change what has happened, only what will,_ she reminded herself, wishing her mind could come up with something better to excuse her past decision.

"Aerith…" Cloud called her in a whisper that again begged an explanation, and she was reminded that she had not yet said that which needed to be said.

"Cloud…," this time, she was the one begging him to understand her, "The Planet asked for my sacrifice and I-"

"You knew?" It was not a question, but a demand. The hurt in his eyes pained her more than any physical blow.

_I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry._

She wanted to say it, but couldn't.

So she nodded weakly…pathetically.

"I was in tune with the lifestream before my death. I could feel every soul that was touching it," she glanced at Sephiroth, "including yours."

The General's face was blank, but he pinned her with his intense eyes and made guilt rise within her…

"You were still sane, you were still the Planet's child… I heard you as you tried to convince Jenova to spare me, if for the sake of Zack alone. I heard you use your cunning and logic to build your case," a sob, " I heard every one of your defenses. 'She is nothing. She is no one. She is weak. She can do nothing for you. There is no threat. Let her live. Ignore her. Let her continue to pray undisturbed'-"

"Enough," Sephiroth ordered stoically, but his hands were fisted and she knew the detachment in his voice was only a façade.

Yet, for some reason, she could not stop.

This was the key! The event that was tearing them apart was, ironically, the one that would bring them together. Or so she hoped…

"Amidst your defense, I was the one that whispered to your Sephiroth… I was the voice who forced your hand by whispering. 'Kill me or I will wipe you off the face of this Planet, Jenova,' I said. And I repeated it, growing in conviction, draping my baseless threat with mockery until Jenova took control and pushed you to do what the _Planet_ wanted."

What followed was a heavy and long pause. Sephiroth was no longer looking at her. His eyes were now tracing the clouds outside, but she knew he was probably reflecting upon all of this.

Then, someone broke the silence.

"All the secrets… why, Aerith? Why?" Yuffie's eyes were tearful and Aerith could see the pain of betrayal naked in her eyes.

It was another blow received; a slap to her soul, a punch to her heart.

"Because the Planet needed a warrior," Aerith's voice was shaking with mixed emotions –pain and frustration and remorse and passion and hope. "It needed the one who stood when everyone else fell, the one who conquered when everyone faltered, the one who showed courage in the face of uncertainty. It needed the warrior who threw herself into harm's way in order to save her loved ones. The one who plunged, headfirst, into the lifestream, unconcerned about what could happen to her-"

The door suddenly opened and a tired voice filled the room, "Me. It _wants_ me."

Tifa Lockhart, barely able to remain standing, locked her eyes with hers, and amidst the chaos of her own emotions, Aerith –with blissful relief—managed to detect understanding.

All was well. All would be well.

The Planet's warrior had just stepped into the stage.

**-o0o-**

**Tifa Lockhart** placed her hands on her knees as hot beads of sweat rolled sluggishly down her skin, moistening her clothes and plastering her mattered hair to her skull, neck and shoulders.

Damn, she could barely catch her breath!

In a heap at her feet laid Jenova. Her silver skin was darkened and rusty and melting. But instead of melting into a puddle of silver, it was melting into dark ash, as though she had been made of paper that was slowly burning away.

Tifa glanced at the head wearily when she felt the entity's eyes digging into her soul.

Though defeated and disappearing, Jenova still managed to laugh at her with an evil that sent shivers running down her spine.

Odin, did this _thing _knew nothing about defeat!

"I cannot end, Tifa Lockhart," it pronounced, hollow eyes pulling her into a dangerous place like a couple of black holes.

"We will see about that," Tifa snarled, kicking her head –the only thing that remained—and watching at it arched through the air before becoming a rain of ash.

The cocky smile she'd been wearing as she'd said her farewell disappeared as soon as she was left alone. Truth be told, she was freaking out. It had taken her so long to dispose of Jenova, to push her out of her body that she wondered if she would truly be able to defeat her. After all, this was only part of the hostile virus, and a small one at that.

"Shiva, I'm tired," she groaned, methodically massaging the muscles of her arms. Every single one of her limbs felt like they'd been filled with lead!

A sudden wave of intense exhaustion washed over her and she, automatically, fell to her knees. With interest, she noticed that the floor was not as cold as it had been before. Instead, it was warm and soft and welcoming.

"Maybe if I just sleep for a bit…" she suggested, her lids becoming heavy with the welcoming thought.

Yet before she could settle down, she heard something that stole all ideas of sleep away.

"I have to go. But I'll be back," Sephiroth's voice filled the room. His tone enveloped her, hugged her and then pushed her away. With damning fear, her chocolate eyes widened and she looked around her, searching for his beautiful figure amidst the darkness.

But he wasn't here.

Of course! He was out there and…

"He's leaving," she whispered, denial and unbelief battling it out inside her heart. She placed her hand over that one organ that was so strong and yet so weak, and felt it constrict with pain.

Siren, no!

He -he was leaving her!

_He's leaving. Shiva help me, he's leaving like all the rest!_

"Sephiroth!" She called with urgency, with fear. "Sephiroth, no! Stay!" Tears rolled down her cheeks, mixing with her sweat as pain overpowered tiredness.

"Sephiroth!" she called again, her voice weaker, her tone pleading. "Don't leave me…"

But there was no response and, instead, she felt the presence that had always been by her side, slowly slipping away.

No. No. **No**.

_Please, no!_

Would it happen again? Would he leave her as Cloud had? As her father had? As Zangan had? As Marlene and Denzel had?

Would she be all alone again…?

_Will you permit it?_ A voice in her head asked defiantly, lending her the strength to punch the ground and regain her feet.

"No!" She flared, pushing all those passive feelings out of the way. Balling her hands into fists and fighting the tears that threatened to spill, she promised, "Not this time! I won't sit idly by and watch another love one leave!"

And suddenly she was flying.

A current of wind had simply picked her up, as if she was no heavier than a feather, and she was going up and up and out of the blackness. She closed her eyes when a white light blinded her and, when she opened them again, she was lying in bed, covered in sweat.

With effort, she pulled herself up. Beside her was a chair that should not be empty, and again she felt the urge to go to him; to search for him, to find him and to plead –if it came down to it—for him to stay with her.

Determined, she walked –quite slowly—out of her room and stopped.

_Where?_ She asked herself, looking left and right. Again, urgency built inside her, making her stomach feel uneasy. She bit her lower lip, fighting to make a decision, hoping it would be the right one… when a commotion was heard and the blood drained out of her face.

By Bahamut's horns, she recognized those voices!

The realization of what this all meant almost knocked her off her feet. Her heart drummed loudly inside her ears and she felt lightheaded with the implications.

How long had she been asleep? What had happened? How had this come to be so soon?

"Okay, they're here. There's no explosions, no visual damage to the ship…" she mumbled, trying to grasp the situation.

There were two possible reasons for the lack of flying bullets, raging fire and demolished equipment. One, Sephiroth was gone –which sent arrows of pain through her heart. Or two, somehow something or someone was keeping order.

Whichever it was, Tifa knew she had to get to them fast if she was hoping for a peaceful resolution.

Thus, she made her way towards the conference room, using the wall to keep from being fell by the utter exhaustion hugging her every muscle. She moved slowly, giving one short step at a time, reminding herself to keep going regardless of the pain.

It took her what felt like ages before she finally reached the door. Tifa was about to press the button that would make the barrier that was keeping her from all she loved and cared about disappear, when an unexpected voice froze her on the spot.

It couldn't be, could it?

No, she had to have imagined it!

The voice of one of her past ghosts spoke again, the tone strained with emotions but vividly real… and, well Tifa's imagination had its limits…

"A-Aerith?" she whispered, her eyes wide with skepticism, her heart hammering with hope.

_How? Why? When?_ Her mind questioned ruthlessly. But before the questions could keep piling, Aerith silenced her with a sudden confession.

"Two men needed to break so that the Planet could get a warrior capable of dealing with Jenova," she said and Tifa, confused, could only lean her forehead on the door and…listen.

As her friend's explanation continued, Tifa Lockhart could not help but feel shaken with clashing sentiments that threatened to rip a wail of frustration out of her! Sephiroth and Cloud had been deliberately broken! Broken by the woman she'd cared for as a sister and the Planet she was supposed to defend!

And all for what?

For what?

For her?

How was this remotely fair? How was she to look her friends in the eye when she now knew that all their suffering… all their pain… all their sacrifice was caused, indirectly, by her? By Tifa Lockhart!

Her hands fisted so tightly that she drew blood out of the skin of her palms.

Damn it! Damn it!

She was confused and, this time, it irked the hell out of her.

Tifa Lockhart wanted to cry, to laugh, to scream and to dance. She wanted to grab Aerith and slap her hard across the face for making them go through all of what they had. And yet, she wanted to hug her and kiss her and ask her to never do it again.

Through the door she heard Yuffie asking the most simple question which, nonetheless, was the hardest to answer.

"All the secrets… why, Aerith? Why?"

Aerith began to answer the question, her voice asking—no, begging and hoping for understanding.

Tifa had long since made the connection. She'd known she was talking about her without the need to spell out her name. And, since she was the cause of it all, she felt it was only honorable that she be there to take the blame, the hate or whatever else was waiting for her.

Holding her tears, she pushed the button. The steely door slid up and behind it she found solemn and bewildered faces. But she paid them no mind, as her eyes sought and pinned the figure she'd missed and hated and loved and honored ever since she'd seen her body being welcomed by the lake in the forgotten city.

"Me. It _wants_ me," the words came to her fast, strong and smooth. She hadn't ordered them, but she could feel it was the only thing she could say at the moment.

"Yes," Aerith's eyes, puffed with tears, regarded her with so much love, so much loyalty, so much remorse, that they pushed all the negative emotions out of her heart.

Tifa smiled, her eyes tearing up, and she realized that she was not faking this happiness. It was genuine, and it relieved her to know that her heart could still love despite all of the pain, the loss and the lies.

"I missed you," the brunette confided, opening his arms and welcoming a sobbing Aerith into her embrace.

She was her sister.

It did not matter why she'd done what she'd done, Aerith had –in the end—saved us all. Wasn't a sacrifice much more worthy of honor, at any rate?

"I'm sorry," Aerith whispered in her ear, tightening her hold around Tifa's waist.

Rubbing her back caringly, lovingly, Tifa responded, "As am I, sister."

"Awww! I wanna hug too!" Yuffie pouted, earning a hearty laugh from both women.

Tifa stretched one arm in her direction and the ninja was all too happy to accept the silent invitation. With a force that almost knocked them both off their feet, she crashed into their flanks and joined in the hug.

When that hug ended, more came. Barret hugged and kissed her forehead roughly, Reno and Rude gave her a Turk-group hug, Vincent's was quicker and a bit awkward, Reeve's was also quick but warm, Nanaki, for his part, rubbed himself against her leg like a cat, and she hugged his neck happily.

It was only after all of this that she noticed Sephiroth was there, sitting in a couch in the far end of the room and looking at her with… with… such intensity in his eyes that she blushed. Before she could try to make her way towards him, though, there was one more person that she had not yet hugged or –at the very least—talked to.

Her eyes moved towards the figure of Cloud Strife. He was looking at her with that boyish gaze that always had the power to melt her heart. He looked so very innocent, so very lost that she could hardly resist the urge to reassure him that everything would be alright –much like she'd always done.

Truth was, he was the only part of her past that had not gone down in flames. Sure, he'd hurt her, but she could not cast him aside, not when they'd shared so much…

"Cloud," she called softly, smiling at him encouragingly.

Had her legs not felt like jelly, she would have approached and hugged him herself. But, if she left the wall she was leaning on, she was certain she would not make it towards him without falling.

Thankfully, the blond swordsman did not need further encouragement.

With the natural hesitation he always displayed, he closed the distance between them and stopped awkwardly. Her smile widened. Sometimes he was such a child!

Looking at his nervous blue eyes, she could not help remembering that night underneath the blanket of stars where they'd share their first promise. A promise he'd kept, even if for a while.

She reached out and guided him closer, hugging his neck and kissing his cheek.

He hugged her back tightly, holding onto her like a drowning man.

And Tifa realized right then and there what she'd always known. That she loved him.

It was that simple.

Though it was not the kind of love she shared with Sephiroth, it was love nonetheless. In fact, this was a more innocent kind, a less intense kind. It was the love you hold for _that_ _friend_ that has won a special spot in your heart.

It was a love you hold for a younger brother, a brother that you wish to protect against everything that would cause him pain –even if you get hurt while doing it.

If Cloud Strife fell into the lifestream today, she would still jump after him without reservations.

Feeling a couple of eyes demanding attention, Tifa turned to look at her favorite ex-SOLDIER. He was still sitting in his couch, his face blank, but in his eyes she saw something that –despite it all—made her smile.

It was fear and uncertainty and it reminded her of how she'd felt when she'd woken up to find him gone.

Carefully ending the hug with Cloud, she smiled at him one more time before pushing herself off the wall. She'd made Sephiroth wait for too long, and though he was patient, she was not.

Shiva, she just wanted to feel his body close to her!

She wanted to know that he was really still there, she wanted to reassure him that she was also there, that nothing between them had changed… that her love for Cloud was not the same as the one she held for him and him alone.

She gave one step, one single, stupid step, and her strength drained out of her. She closed her eyes, ready to meet the floor with bruised knees, but instead she felt arms steadying her, holding her, protecting her.

She didn't need to open her eyes to know it was him. The gasps around her were clue enough that, somehow, he'd crossed the room in seconds and had gotten to her in time.

"Shiva, it feels like ages since I last touched you," she blurted with a drunken smile on her face.

"I agree," Sephiroth said, his mouth quirking slightly while his eyes filled with merriment.

Tifa's eyes widened and she felt waves of heat rising to her cheeks.

Shit!

Had she…did she…

"I said that out loud, didn't I?" she said groaning and, unconsciously, burying her face in the closest available spot… Sephiroth's neck.

In the silence surrounding them, the General's chuckle left everyone –including her—dumb folded.

He really didn't care at all about appearances! Even Genesis, who was supposed to know him best, was looking at him with disbelief.

"W-wait, wait wait!" Yuffie snapped out of her stupor, surprise mingled with interest giving way to a devilish smile that made Tifa nervous. "So… you and Sephy…?"

"I-I…ah, we… err," Tifa was having a _lot_ of trouble thinking of something clever to say to get them out of the spotlight. She had no idea if Sephiroth would even—

A squeal was ripped out of her lips when the General suddenly swept her off her feet. Her arms circled his neck and she looked at him with incredulity, confusion and wonderment.

"I believe there are more important matters that require our attention," Sephiroth said solemnly, turning around and making his way back to his original spot –with her held protectively in his arms.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Cloud regarding them warily, carefully, suspiciously, but she couldn't force herself to care at the moment.

In fact, all she could think about was all the mixed signals her lover was giving. For one part, he was carrying her –without an ounce of embarrassment. For the other, he hadn't answered Yuffie's question, which, in an unexplainable way, disappointed her somewhat.

When he took his seat and set her on his lap, however, Tifa realized –by the pride his eyes displayed—that, though he hadn't said it directly, Sephiroth was answering the ninja by actions alone, which was more than she could ask for.

Tifa Lockhart smiled, wishing the blush would recede. It wasn't fair that the General could still maintain his regal, beautiful face, while she became a friggin' tomato!

Nearby, Aerith chuckled, while everyone else just stared in shock.

"Don't ask," Cid mumbled when Reno asked him something in a hushed whisper.

Before Cloud, who seemed the only one closer to bewildered anger than to confusion, could say something, however, the door opened and in strolled a distracted Rie.

"I have run some tests and have concluded that Tifa Lockhart is out of danger –well, at least from the Jenova taint, since she could still be killed by the enemy. However, I do not think she will regain consciousness until to-"

Yuffie, moving towards the black headed, snatched the papers that were stealing Rie's attention out of her hands. Pointing at the spot where she and Sephiroth were, she said, "You were saying?"

Rie's brows quirked upwards with surprise, "Ah, I see… Perhaps you are stronger than your constitution implies, Tifa Lockhart. Or mayb-"

By that time, Reeve had stopped Rie from saying anything else by covering her lips with his hand and giving her a reproving look, which only made her frown with obvious confusion.

Tifa smiled, genuinely glad to see her with them.

After all, Tifa had met Rie back when Reeve had just retrieved her from the lab where she'd been found. It was her and Shera who'd taken care of Rie, since she seemed particularly hostile towards males, until Reeve had won her trust. By which time, of course, Rie had spent almost every waking moment learning things from the WRO's leader and their immediate help was not required anymore.

Naturally, considering her teacher, Tifa had expected Rie to have a lot more social skills –and common sense- by now. And yet, ironically, it was a refreshing thing to find someone so innocently honest during these disturbing times. In a way, Rie too was a child in a woman's body, but for very different reasons than was Cloud.

"Rie is correct," Sephiroth's voice snapped her off her reflections. "You should not be out of bed. Your exhaustion is evident."

Tifa's eyes moved to her lap and she noticed just then that she had been holding one of Sephiroth's hands in between hers. She blushed again, but instead of letting go of it, she held onto it even more.

"I thought… you said that you had to leave and I just thought…," her eyes trailed to Cloud for a second without conscious thought, before continuing to mumble, "I mean, I figured… I," she bit her lower lip.

_I thought you'd leave me. _How come it was so easy to say it in her head, and so hard to say it to him? Was it perhaps because she was afraid that he would think her weak?

"You thought I would leave you?" he voiced, his tone surprised and gentle at the same time.

Her blush intensified to alarming levels.

Sephiroth took her jaw gently and tilted her head so that she had to look him in the eye. What she saw there, reassured her like no words could. There was devotion and love swirling within his azure gaze, lightening it and, with it, brushing all the vestiges of pain away.

"I will never abandon you, Tifa Lockhart," he promised and, before she knew it, his lips descended upon hers.

All Tifa could do –all she wanted to do and all she did, was kiss him back…

Whoever was watching, whatever they thought… it didn't matter.

All that mattered was him, and as she deepened the kiss… nothing but _them_ existed.

**-o0o-**

**Jezbel** was sitting in a particularly uncomfortable chair beside Sephiel's bed. Tiredly, she leaned her head against the side of one of his legs, holding onto his human hand with closed eyes.

Though she was exhausted, she couldn't sleep. Not until she was certain –at the very least- that he was okay.

Of course, questions she was unable to answer without him were also a source of her insomnia. They came at her with a fury that made her temples burn with pain.

_Why?_

Why had he done it! Why had Sephiel risked himself for someone like _her_!

_Why?_

_I am not even worth it_, the voice that the scientists' cruelty had given birth to, proclaimed inside her head. It was a voice that laughed at her and made her strong. It was the voice that angered her and reminded her, constantly, the reality of things.

It whispered to her that she was trash. That she was broken. That she was not worthy to be protected, let alone loved.

It was a voice she hated but needed. One that she had gotten so used to hearing, that she rarely questioned if the words it spoke were true.

Until now…

Yes. Part of Jezebel knew she was not worth it, and yet she couldn't help but wish she was.

Ever since she could remember, her instincts had always pushed her in the direction of the alpha male. What little she knew was that seduction was a powerful tool and so she'd tried using it –with no success- with her new group.

Knowing Raphael was simply too good to taint with her touch, she'd set her eyes on the one who followed him in strength.

Jezebel had vainly tried again and again to lure Castiel into her embrace. She had been all too ready to exchange sexual favors for a promise of protection, because that was what she'd learned to do. That was how she'd learned to survive!

It was a cruel thing for a child to learn and yet, by the time she was twelve, she'd been already pleasing the head scientist, the one she'd seen was the boss of those white-coat lab rats. The first time she'd had sex with that disgusting, bald man, she'd cried. She'd even attempted to scratch off her skin before she'd been sedated and strapped to a bed thinking she'd lost it.

But even after leaving her legs bloody and raw, Jezbel had still felt tainted and dirty. Through time, however, she'd given in and learned to take as much pleasure as she could from her actions.

Everything she'd done, nonetheless, had ultimately been for survival.

Except… now she felt ashamed again. Ashamed that this man had been so ready to give his life for hers, even when she'd done nothing to win or gain his protection. Jezebel had been so concentrated on Castiel, that she'd pretty much ignored Sephiel.

Yet now…

Now she could not ignore him. Now she could not stop thinking about him. Now she wanted to know what she had to do in exchange for _his_ protection…

No.

That was not true.

As alien as it was, it was _she_ who wanted to protect him. Her brown eyes watered when she realized what her sudden change of heart meant.

After all this time, she'd finally found it.

After all this time, her heart had opened for someone her body hadn't even touched.

After all this time, Jezbel had found someone to love, though she was certain –and afraid- that she was unworthy of him.

But humans are selfish, and she was merely human.

"Jezbel…"

Her eyes widened and her head snapped up when she heard her name being called in a whisper. She hadn't even noticed when his hand had closed around hers and, for a second, she wondered how long he'd been awake.

Giving him her entire attention, she noticed that Sephiel was looking at her with eyes filled with so much emotion, that he made her blush and smile with a happiness she'd never ever felt before.

She liked this… this _feeling_.

She did so a lot.

"Sephiel…I…I'm sorry," she said, reaching out to touch his silver arm.

The man frowned and moved the artificial limb experimentally. There had been surprise and fear in his eyes for a second, before they changed into unbound curiosity.

"I guess it's better than no arm," he said grimly, his lips pressing together in thought.

Jezbel, suddenly wishing to make all his pain go away, grabbed his silver arm and, careful not to cut herself with the clawed fingers, she kissed it.

It was probably a stupid thing to do. It wasn't as if she could wipe away his pain with such a pathetic action, yet that was all she could really do. That was all she could really offer.

An idea struck her as her mind processed that last thought.

No. She could also offer what she'd always offer, her strongest asset…

Standing up she climbed into his bed, straddling him while he looked at her with open surprise, his own cheeks turning red. Slowly, she pulled the covers down to reveal his powerful torso, feeling excitement rushing through her veins as she regarded the body that had been honed to kill.

She bended forward and was about to kiss his chest, when he grabbed her arms and stopped her. Bewildered, she turned to him –half-embarrassed and half-hurt.

Of course, how stupid of her! Why would he want her when she had been ridden by so many before!

"I don't want this Jezebel," he said.

Hurt, she tried to pull away and reign the sudden, stupid tears, but he held her in place with a surprisingly gentle but strong grip.

"No! I didn't mean…," he sighed, thumbing a tear that had escaped off of her cheek. "Jezebel, I don't want your body. No, wait!" The nervousness of his words and eyes, gave her hope, so she continued to listen to him with increasing interest, her tears stopping. "What I mean is that I don't just want your body… I want you. All of you… Jezebel, I love you and-"

She kissed him, softly, longingly, lovingly.

This was all she ever wanted.

He was all she ever wanted.

"Thank you, Sephiel," she whispered, lying down next to him and hugging him while he just grinned boyishly at her. "I…I think I love you too."

**To be continued…**

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**AN: **There is a new illustration for this chapter. You can find the link to it in my profile.


	25. Our Leader

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any of its characters. I am just burrowing them for a while.

**Author's notes: **Man, this story just beat the reviews of my oldest story! So, thank you very much for the support. I have to admit that this was the most stressing chapter to write out of all! It gets pretty tough when you have all this characters in a room and add the element of surprise. That considered, I am happy this is finally over.

~ **Enjoy!**

**Quick thanks to logged-on readers: **_Eva Von Dee, Sunesir, CNome, Goopy Sentimentalist, Krho, Riiiceballe, Sephiroth Owa13, brokenmaelstrom, TornAngelWings, Command76, Ghedea, SharinganUserX, MinnieMouse8990, Galiriol, Slyefoxfury, Midnight Marquis, LoveableDimples16 _and Jedimandalorian.

**Quick replies to anonymous readers: **Maya _(Muchas gracias! __Que bueno que te gusto! __Y espero que siguas disfrutando la historia!), _Shadow Blackheart_ (Thank you very much for the review and for pointing out my typos. I went back and corrected them. I am also glad you like how I've built Tifa's and Sephiroth's relationship, I just took a chance with that one. Anyhow, enjoy this chapter!), _E _(Thank you! I am glad I could help out by providing some entertainment. Do you live in Washington, by any chance? I have a friend living there and he also got stuck in his apartment because of a snowstorm!), _andpearlwhite _(Thank you very much for the support! Indeed, last was a difficult chapter to write, but this one was not a walk in the park either. I so hope you understand –and approve- of what I am doing here with Cloud. Anyways, enjoy the chapter!)._

**Special thanks: **_.o0XxGurenxX0o._(for the wonderful valentines fanart she made for me! If you guys want to check it out –it's a TifaxSephy one—please check the link in my profile!)

**Typos pointed out by**: _CNome, Sephiroth Owa13, Goopy Sentimentalist, LoveableDimples16 _

**~Enjoy** and don't forget to **review**!

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"_Don't stand in someone's shadow when it's your sunlight that should lead the way."_

_-Unknown-_

"**One Winged Angels"**

By: FenixPhoenix

**Chapter 25: "Our Leader"**

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**Cloud Strife **felt completely lost by what was happening.

What he'd just learned… it had changed something in him… Or rather, it had _cracked_ something in him, something that had already been fragile even before the waterfall of secrets had started pounding against his swollen brain.

Closing his eyes, he tried to reign in the rampaging emotions emerging from the depths of his heart. But the thing about emotions was that they could not be controlled. They were not a decision, but a human instinct that –hard as he might try—he could never successfully ignore either.

So, powerless to stop them, these wild sentiments stormed his insides –body and soul—leaving a wreckage of thoughts and, within them, scars of aching fire behind.

Grimly, Cloud realized that the lid to his personal pandora's box had just been open and, needless to say, he was not enjoying it. Not one bit.

But he wasn't about to simply submit to his feelings like he'd done countless of times in the past.

No. He was beyond that point.

He needed to fight, to think, to show his friend's that he'd managed to keep growing even though he'd been broken.

Thus, careful to keep himself from being beset, he tried to make sense of things, to undo the sudden knotted mess in the fabric of his reality. At first fright seemed to be the way to go, but then there was pike of anger followed by a parade of guilt and pain and relief and…

By the thirteen warriors, it was still so damn confusing!

How could this not be a dream –no, a nightmare when his world had been turned upside down, his reality becoming so abstract that he was ruthlessly reminded of his own fractured persona on the day he'd learned he was not who he thought he was!

Why?

Why the hell couldn't anything be _simple_! Did the Planet enjoy twisting the path of his life so that he was unable to see what laid in wait for him? Was this some kind of… of _punishment_ for his sins?

When Sephiroth took his seat and placed Tifa on his lap, however, all his emotions unanimously pushed the most appropriate to the top.

Anger.

It was barely contained, to the point were it threatened to make him attack the angel of darkness right then and there. And yet, he couldn't help but remember Aerith's confession and the part she'd played in this man's downfall.

When Rie stepped into the room, Cloud took advantage of the distraction to deal with his emotions.

Slowly but surely they all somewhat settled as logic got its hands on the strings of his thoughts. Idly, he heard Sephiroth asking something and Tifa, blushing furiously, turning to him as she responded awkwardly.

Cloud had never seen her so nervous before.

_Wait, what are they talking about?_

By the time the swordsman broke out of his thoughts, Sephiroth had leaned forward and, without an ounce of hesitation, had _kissed_ Tifa. The small part of him that had been trying to make amends with the situation was struck down by his more instinctive persona, who only wanted to rip the man's insides out.

Unavoidably, Cloud's mind snapped, forgetting cool reason and opting for heated instinct.

From all the surprises, from all the changes, the one that he had never expected in a million years –and which he could, therefore, not accept- was this.

Because this was _wrong_!

It was wrong!

_They_ were wrong!

His hand fisted and he felt himself trembling, but whether it was from fear or anger, he was not so sure anymore. Perhaps it was both at the same time, a lethal combination for one who'd felt this before, back when Sephiroth had broken the illusion of his life.

But, if possible, this was even worst that that. The problem was not only that Sephiroth had dared to kiss Tifa, it was also that Tifa –_his_ Tifa was kissing the man in return. The same man who'd made them suffer so much for so very long.

Did she not remember all his deeds, his bloody sins?

Had he somehow erased the memory of what happened all those years ago?

Because how else could she had forgiven him?

Even more, how could she kiss the mouth that had laughed as Nibelheim –their _home,_ burned to the fucking ground!

When the unlikely pair parted, though, he was stunned to see a look of love from both of them as they gaze at each other.

And yet… it still made no sense to him!

This man –even if what Aerith had said was true—had _killed_ Tifa's father! He had murdered him in cold blood and, had his reach been longer, he would have killed Tifa herself!

This man… he had burned it all away. He was the one that had destroyed everything, a part of Cloud included. He had burned him and his past in a fire that had left nothing but ashes behind. Ashes and a pale replica of who he'd once upon a time used to be.

Had Sephiroth not attacked, maybe Zack would even be... he would still be…

His jaw clenched, his mind unable to echo that one word that made his still open wound bleed tears of dark remorse. The muscles around his eyes hardened, bringing his brow down in a deep frown while his lips pressed together in a thin line of displeasure.

Unable to take it any longer, he gave a step forward, intent on reminding Tifa just who the man –the monster holding her was, when someone grabbed his arm and robbed him of his strength… for only a second.

A flash of hot anger made him whirl around and grip the wrist of the person who'd interrupted him. His hand tightened its hold automatically, using much more force than was necessary –it was pure instinct overriding civility, and he couldn't bring himself to care… until he actually _looked_ at the owner of the limb he wanted to crush.

Blue mako eyes widened, yet he failed to give his hand orders to release –or at the very least soften his eagle-grip.

Bright emerald eyes, meanwhile, looked at him gently, though he could tell he was hurting her –both physically and maybe even emotionally. Slowly, he softened his hold but didn't— couldn't let her go. A couple of tears streamed down her face and Cloud found that he could hear a silent plea in each salty bead.

In that instant, as his eyes absorbed the image of her, something inside him died. But this time, he knew what it was.

It was the anger.

It was the overwhelming feeling of betrayal, frustration and fear which had combined to create that hazy anger that had burned away his reason and had, for a second, made him forget who he was angry at.

Because how could he be angry at Tifa? Hadn't he hurt her enough? Who was he to point fingers when he had earned his fair share of tears from her?

Of course, this realization didn't mean he was okay with whatever these two had. Though he had no claim to call himself that, he still considered himself Tifa's comrade –a friend even, if she would have him—and did not wish to see another do what he had already done.

He wanted to maintain that heart he'd sworn to protect, that which had always shone so strong… he wanted to keep it whole and intact. And, as hard as it was, if Sephiroth could indeed mend the heart he'd broken so many times… then so be it.

He would abide by it.

He would abide by whatever made Tifa happy.

Because in the end, there was no one in this room who deserved it more than her.

"Cloud," Aerith must have read this decision in his eyes, because when she called to him in a whisper, she draped her voice with pride.

Feeling the soft caress of her voice, Cloud realized that he still loved her, despite what she'd done to him. In fact, he loved her even more after her startling confession.

Perhaps it was because she had taken the guilt of her death off of his back, making the ever present load less heavy, less crushing. Or maybe it was because by destroying her saintly image, she had suddenly become attainable for someone who'd always considered himself unworthy of her.

"I'm sorry," he told her, caressing the slight bruise that was already showing in Aerith's wrist. For all the years that had gone by, he still managed to get lost in a broken piece of a stolen personality–_or maybe that was his real self?_

Whatever it was, whoever that bout of emotion had brought forth, Cloud knew he should not have acted so rashly.

He should not have hurt her when she'd already been hurting for so long… especially, since she'd done it all to ultimately help them save the Planet -a deed that would not have been possible without her assistance.

"No, Cloud, I'm-," he placed a finger on her lips to stop the flow of apologies he did not need to hear.

"I'm alright," regardless of all his confusion, all his weariness, he managed to smile, "We're alright, Aerith…right?"

The woman who'd haunted his every dream for the past three years wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face on his chest. With every soft sob, he could feel her tears moistening his clothes… and he really didn't care.

As he hugged her back, something positive finally drew on him.

Everything would be okay.

He –no, _they_ would be okay.

**-o0o-**

**Reeve Tuesti** was perhaps the third person in the room to overcome his shock the quickest –with Cid and Vincent being the first and second. Concerned by his friends' reactions, though, he'd turned to the biggest threat–ready to try and quell him if his battle instincts kicked in.

To his surprise, he saw Cloud battling with himself before being inevitably calmed by an emotionally shaken Aerith. Though unsure if Cloud had managed to make amends with this unanticipated _surprise_ all by himself, Reeve was not about to start prodding or complaining as long as peace was kept.

In fact, he found himself pleasantly surprised by how things were progressing. In all honesty, he'd expected someone would already be bleeding by now…

"I guess your worries were baseless, Reeve," Rie pointed out as though she'd read his thoughts.

Afraid of what might come out of her mouth, he tried to physically stop her from speaking again. However, his apprentice proved quite apt in keeping his hand away from her mouth.

"There have been no murder attempts up until this point, even after watching Tifa fraternizing with your former enemy," the woman finished unperturbed.

_DAMN!_

He _knew_ it! He just _knew_ it! Rie had the uncanny ability to either drastically improve a situation or pull him into a terrible spot alongside her!

_Damn. Damn. Damn it to hell!_ he cursed, the blood draining out of his face the moment he found himself pinned –alongside the insensible female—under a lot of gazes. And though some of those displayed amusement, mostly all were unsympathetic glares.

Uneasy, Reeve tried to laugh the tension off, but the damage was done. He could already feel confusion taking its perch in the heavy atmosphere, threatening to break the fragile standstill.

To his surprise, it was not Cloud the first to address the source of what was making them all uncomfortable.

"W-wait! Teef!" Barret's rumbling voice echoed loudly inside the silent room, making Reeve flinch not specifically by the sound, but by the tone.

Barret Wallace's small, dark eyes kept jumping from Cloud to Tifa and back again. When his brow tilted downwards, the humongous figure made it clear that he was not very comfortable with the situation at all.

With the beginnings of cold fear, Reeve could only pray –in vain, he was sure- that Barret had somehow forgotten to load the machinegun attached to his missing limb.

When Barret's eyes finally settled on the woman he loved as a second daughter, he spoke again, "Tifa! Y'know who he is, don't ya? So, wha-what're… the hell're you thinkin'! Hell! Are'ya thinkin' at all?"

Tifa's face blushed but the twitching of her fingers prompted Reeve to wonder whether it was due to embarrassment or anger. Still, maintaining her cool, she open her mouth and was about to try and explain, when Barret whirled around to face the calm-looking Cloud, ignoring Tifa for the time being.

"An', you! Don't ya care about'er at all!" he flared, his entire frame trembling with anger or indignation, Reeve was unable to tell. Though he wouldn't be surprised if it was a combination of both.

"Barret," Tifa called, but the hard-headed man kept his unwavering glare on the swordsman.

Calmly, Cloud released Aerith, faced Barret and heaved a tired sigh.

"I do… I do care about her," he told her, his eyes having met Tifa's as he said the last.

Barret flexed his arms, "Then wh-"

"I know! I…," he interrupted harshly, combing his spiky hair once and displaying his own naked nervousness with the action. Still, he continued, "I don't like this anymore than you do but… I also trust her judgment." He made a small pause before driving his point home, "Don't you?"

Barret gave a step back as if he had been punched square on the face, and Reeve could not blame him. The statement had been an accusation which, in itself, signaled that Cloud had gotten tired of being in the receiving end of hostile jabs.

Crossing his arms, Reeve smiled thinly with something akin to pride and respect. Who would have thought the strong but scared warrior would finally stop running away from his problems? Perhaps they had a chance after all…

Barret, meanwhile, kept moving his jaw, but failed to articulate anything coherent. The man was probably struggling to face the truth Cloud had forced him to acknowledge, no doubt. The scientist, of course, approved of this. They all needed to start looking at the bigger picture if they were to make it past this room.

"May I point something out," Rie's voice made chills run down his spine and he turned in time to see her give a hesitant step towards the two warriors.

Reeve Tuesti flinched inwardly as his mind bombarded him with possible scenarios of what was to come. No, he could not afford more surprises! So without conscious thought, he made his fear known by replying with a curt, "No, you may not."

To his left, Yuffie _tried_ to muffle a giggle while Rie turned to him with a tilted head and an inquisitive look. Feeling an itch on the right side of his face, he spared a glance in said direction, only to be met by a chiding semi-glare from Shera Highwind.

Now that was a woman that was best avoided, especially since her hormones were not quite _balanced_ –not to mention that she had quite the overprotective, over-reactive husband...

Naturally, Reeve would have been stupid to pursue his goal. And since he wasn't, he ended up raising his hands in sign of bitter surrender.

Satisfied, Shera approached the confused figure of Rie and smiled her motherly smile.

"Don't mind him, Rie," she cooed, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder in encouragement, "Come, now. Speak your mind, dear."

Rie regarded the older woman in silence for a while. Eventually, she'd dropped her gaze to Shera's stomach, causing her confusion to give way to something else that made her frown deepen even more.

Realization drawing on him, Reeve fought the powerful urge to laugh. The poor girl was probably trying to come up with a proper explanation for Shera's swollen belly, for surely the 'being pregnant' part must be eluding her!

The more he thought of this, however, the less amused he felt, to the point where his brain started flashing thousands of red flags in sign of looming danger.

The thing was, unknown situations always gave ground for Rie to say something incredibly thoughtless! And considering whom she was about to address…

_No! No-no-no-no!_

Giving a short step back, Reeve ended up praying to all the guardians out there, that Rie would not say something that would earn the anger of Shera or –Odin forbid—Cid!

After a short while –and a shake from Shera- Rie pulled out of her frozen stupor.

"So…?" Shera prompted with an amused smile he hoped the oblivious Rie would not wipe out anytime soon.

"Ah, yes. Well, I merely wanted to point out that it shouldn't be so hard to trust Sephiroth Crescent since most of you used to be enemies to begin with," she concluded laconically, scanning the crowd with little concern.

That being said –and leaving everyone blinking in shock—she turned her attention back to, what she surely felt was, a more interesting topic.

Shera's belly.

Reeve -feeling quite uncomfortable since he used to be their enemy, after all—noticed how enwrapped Rie was by Shera that he decided best to address the issue before Cid did. Plus, of course, it never hurt to shift the spotlight away from all those related –in one way or another—with the ShinRa corporation.

"Rie, what did I tell you about staring?" he asked chidingly, hoping this new subject would also dissipate the increased tension her statement had left behind.

"That it is inappropriate," she responded, looking up to meet Shera's eyes instead.

The older woman tilted her head slightly to one side. In her eyes confusion and intrigue could be read as plain as day.

"What is it, Rie? Do you want to tell me something?" she prompted in that motherly tone that would have melted the heart of even Rufus Shinra.

His charge spared a short glace at him and Reeve knew, in that moment, that this was not going to go well. Before he could intercede, however, she spoke.

"What I want to say falls under the category of 'delicate subjects between females that are best not addressed'," she explained, making Reeve slap his forehead. Hard.

No. This was not going to go well at—

"Nonsense," Shera brushed the comment away with a hearty laugh. "You can tell me anything."

It was painfully obvious to him that Shera knew _nothing_ about Rie if she had not taken the hint –_delicate subject! Delicate subject!_- in the girl's statement.

The socially inept female just nodded solemnly before confiding, "You seem to gain a lot of weight since last I saw you. I can't help but wonder the purpose of it."

A moment of silence that seemed to go on forever and then…

Shera's laughter seemed to lift the veil of tension because most of the people in the room joined in, leaving a surprised Rie staring at them in befuddlement.

"I'm pregnant, Rie!" Shera answered when she'd somewhat composed herself, wiping tears out of the corner of her eyes.

"There's a baby inside of you?" Rie was looking at her stomach with newfound interest.

Shera nodded and, taking Rie's hand, she placed it on her belly.

Reeve watched his charge's expression carefully. At first she held the innocent curiosity that had always drawn people to her like a magnet, but then her eyes widened and she stepped away instinctively, fear written all over her face for a few short seconds before confusion settled in again.

"Oh, dear, don't look so startled," Shera said between giggles, "the baby just kicked, is all."

Around him the laughter resumed, making Reeve realize –not in the absence of deep relief—that none but him had seen that moment of terror Rie had experience. And he knew, even as she tried to unsuccessfully join in the laughter, that the baby's kick had triggered a memory her mind had been repressing. A memory that she was not ready to share perhaps, but which she now possessed nonetheless.

Hiding his excitement, Reeve decided to relegate this new information to the back of his mind for the time being. The least he wanted was to make Rie retreat into herself if he pressured her into tell him what she'd remembered. After all, he'd done it once before and it had taken him more than three months to regain her trust.

It was not a mistake he was ready to do again. Least now that their enemies had clearly developed an interest on her. An interest that had simply doubled his own…

"Well, we seemed to have gone off track," he pointed out, successfully diverting everyone's attention. Through the corner of his eye, he saw Rie sighing and knew he'd intervened in time.

Clearing his throat, he moved towards the center of the room, feeling slightly intimidated by the assembled group. Still, he presented the façade of calmness he always used when addressing the WRO's army and decided to set things in motion.

"There are a lot of important matters we need to discuss but perhaps the most important of all is…" he scanned the now solemn crowd, his eyes resting on Tifa. "We need unity and the only way to gain that..."

"We need to choose a leader," Aerith finished for him.

Turning to her he nodded and echoed, "Indeed, we need our leader."

**-o0o-**

**Tifa Lockhart **sighed contentedly when Rie had, unknowingly, distracted everyone and provided some very needed humor. And as tempting it was to ignore it, though, she knew this lightness would have come to an end eventually and when Reeve spoke, she accepted that the time had come.

A _leader_…

That is what they were asking for and Tifa realized that it was indeed what they needed. More than talking about their enemies, they needed to present a unified front. Of course, it was easier said than done.

Three years ago Cloud had been the obvious choice but now… considering the two new –and _very_ apt—additions to their group, this decision demanded some careful deliberation.

And though she personally wouldn't mind having Sephiroth as their leader, she couldn't really expect the rest of Avalanche to simply accept him, not when in their eyes he was still the man they'd fought to eliminate three years ago.

Hell, she was content with the fact that they were allowing the General to be in the same room without being tied down or held at bay at sword point!

No, Tifa couldn't possibly ask for more, especially now that they were being bombarded with problems from all fronts.

After all, it had taken her quite some time to accept Sephiroth, and she was the most open-minded of the bunch!

"Well, I don't know about y'all," Reno said, digging his hands into his pockets nonchalantly, "but there's only one person I can think of who can pull this off."

To her surprise, she saw quite a few heads nodding in approval –Genesis's, Cloud's and even Sephiroth's among them. But with so vague a statement, how could she possibly agree? Or rather, if she did agree, then what was she agreeing to exactly?

Did Reno perchance mean Cloud? Or did he mean Sephiroth? After all, the General had been ShinRa's military leader and none had been able to equal him in that ground. Then again, Sephiroth had rebelled against his corporation, so she couldn't really see how the few Turks left would willingly follow him before he earned their trust.

So did they really mean Cloud then?

Brown eyes trailed towards her blonde childhood friend. He was standing with his arms crossed and Aerith clinging to his sleeveless arm. He seemed calmed and unperturbed and, feeling her stare, he met her eyes briefly and nodded her way before turning back to Reeve.

Tifa frowned, not really sure what that nod had meant. However, she realized that maybe he wouldn't be such a bad leader. Now that Aerith was back he seemed more focus, more mature even…

"Alright, all in favor of having Tifa Lockhart as our leader, say _aye_," Reeve instructed, making her eyes widened and her head snapped –quite painfully—his way.

"Wait! Wha-"

One by one everyone voiced their agreement. Cloud was the first, followed by the Turks, Vincent, Cid, Shera, Aerith, Yuffie, Nanaki, Barret, Genesis and, behind her, Sephiroth joined in.

"Rie," Yuffie chided, shaking the girl out of her distracted state for she was the only one who hadn't voiced her opinion.

"Yes?" she asked.

"Good enough," Reeve piped in cheerfully. Then, turning to her, he said, "So, now that that's settled, what do you want to do, Tifa?"

Shocked, she just stared at them as though they'd all grown a second head –that, or they'd forgotten to use their brain. Which, of course, they must have, because why else would they choose _her _when half the people in this room where more powerful, more inspiring… just plain _better_ than her?

Before she could point out how crazy the mere idea was, Sephiroth spoke.

"You brought us together, Tifa," he reminded, almost as if he'd read her thoughts. "It is only natural that it be you who will keep us together."

She turned to him, her eyes begging him for help and understanding, "But—I can't! Surely there's someone stronger…"

"Tifa," Cloud began with a small smile, waiting until her attention was fully on him before continuing, "three years ago you were the one who really kept us going, kept us strong."

Her eyes watered as she gazed at the boy who had suddenly become a man.

"I believe you can do this, Tifa," he insisted and, scanning the crowd he added, "and they must too, because I do not hear anyone disagreeing."

Around her, the voices of her friends rose in encouragement and she felt so… so touched and so…so very _humbled_ by them.

Had they always held her in such high esteem? Was their love for her this strong that, even after learning that their suffering had been –indirectly- caused by her, they still pledge their loyalty to her without hesitation?

Keeping the tears from falling as her heart swelled with pride, she nodded. It was in thanks and in agreement. And it was also a humble bow in disguise to this mismatched group who would give it all for her, just like she would give her very life to ensure their safety.

And as she felt Sephiroth wiping an obstinate tear that had escaped her, she knew that her promise to Jenova was not baseless.

They were going to defeat her, because with these people backing her up… she'd just become unstoppable…

_Tremble, Jenova. We're coming for you._

**-o0o-**

**Castiel **stopped just outside the entrance to his former prison. He hadn't even given the order to halt. His body had done it all by itself, a testament of how deeply the pain received in this damn place had been carved into his very soul.

Quick images of a not so distant past flashed before his eyes, the last attempt his unconsciousness was making to keep him from going in. All the images, without exception, displayed cruelty, pain, gore and…

"Pathetic," he grumbled when his treacherous limbs began to tremble, his weight suddenly becoming too much for his knees to handle.

Angry, he balled his hands into fists, nails digging into his palms, and squared his shoulders. With jaw clenched -making the bone bulge out of the skin below his ears- he forced both his body and mind to face the abandoned building that had been the source of most, if not all, of his nightmares.

Moving forward, he pushed the door, the only physical barrier between him and the answers he sought, out of the way. He must have used more force than he'd planned, because the door slammed against the wall, cracking it and getting stuck in the indentation left behind.

Cracking his neck, he ignored the goosbumps coating his skin and the chills running down his spine, making his heart pump blood twice as fast.

_They are gone, damn it! _He told himself, wishing he could face this cursed place with the calmness of one who'd gotten over this.

Because he _had_ gotten over this place –over what this place had done to him… right?

_Then why are you here?_ A voice inside him taunted, making his lips press together in a thin line of displeasure.

But the voice was right. Why was he here? What was he really hoping to find? Was he here only to see if this place still held power over him?

No. That was not it.

The thing was, this revisiting of his past was not really for him. Or rather, he wasn't expecting to find something about him, but about something else. Something that was missing…

But what was that?

A wooden, dusty table that had been lying on his path met its end as a surge of anger prompted him to use fire to blast the thing into a rain of splinters.

"Shit!" he spat, massaging his suddenly throbbing temples.

Trying to regain his calm, he stood still, counting in his head and waiting for the anger to decrease into controllable levels, else he would end up torching the entire place. When the haze in his mind lifted, he heaved a sigh and continued onwards –specifically, towards the last floor of the underground facility.

When he got there he found the place burnt and shattered. There were stains of blood on the floor and walls, and he noticed that some of the equipment had somehow managed to survive the onslaught that Raphael and Uriel had wrought.

Wearily, he moved towards the tube where they'd kept him whenever they were studying him. It was empty and it had a hole on one of the sides which Raphael had created to pull him out. Gathering his wits, he crawled inside and stood up behind the now murky glass.

As he stood there, he tried to picture everything at it was before he'd been freed. His hands started tingling as he imagined the cold mako liquid wrapping around his naked body. Slowly but surely, before his very eyes, the place began to transform back to what it used to be, with the artificial light and the pristine surfaces of glass, steel and wood.

He gulped when sound exploded into existence. The blipings of the machines, the raspy sound of the printers and the laughter… the laughter of those scientists as they made jokes about him while in his presence.

"This is ridiculous!" he chided himself, angry that he would allow his imagination to hold him prisoner. He was about to push all of this away, when the lights dimmed and the scientists disappeared and in their steed…

In their steed there was a single shadow, standing at the foot of his tube, looking up at him with eyes of a stormy night.

Castiel frowned and squinted, trying to make up the face of the figure from within the shadows.

When had this happened? Why did he not remember it!

This was special. He could feel it… but… but…

Wha—what was this?

"What are you doing in there?" the figure ask, the voice revealing that the owner was a female of maybe seven to nine years of age.

"Who are you?" he asked, but the figure didn't respond. Instead, seconds after he'd ask that, he heard the voice of another child saying.

"I don't know."

Castiel's bright, golden eyes widened.

That was him! It was his voice when he was younger…

So then… what was this? Had this happened? And if it did, why couldn't he remember…?

The figure –the _girl_ gave a step forward and was promptly illuminated by the mako glow emanating from his prison. His eyes drank in her form and all its details. Her skin was pale, her eyes silver, her hair dark and short and...

And she was _beautiful_.

"I am Azia," she said with a smile that stunned him.

And suddenly the forgotten feelings came back in a crushing wave. The image disappeared and he fell to his knees, clutching his chest and trembling as the whirlwind of emotions got loose inside him.

Curiosity. Interest. Happiness. Eagerness. Friendship. Kindness. Care. Love. Passion. Hope. Dreams.

The memories flooded his mind, wrapped around it and ripped a horse scream out of his throat.

Because after all the happiness he remembered, pain –burning, aching, _maddening_ pain descended upon him, shrouding his world in cold darkness.

And this agonizing pain…

It pierced his heart and shattered it, and left him trembling and weeping like he'd never weep before. And though he tried to stop them, the tears still rolled down his cheek and the sobs still shook his frame.

Because she was gone.

His angel –his goddess, she was _gone_.

They had taken her away from him.

They had killed her…

She was gone before he could take her to the castle in the skies, the place with the walls of clouds and the ceiling of stars…

Arms, familiar and soothing, wrapped around him and he could not fight them.

"The pain was too much," Raphael whispered, rubbing his back, "You ask me to take it away."

"She's gone," he repeated, clinging to the man, fighting for his sanity and yet, not willing to let go of her memory even if it meant living with the pain. "They killed her, Raphael! They -they experimented on her… they _butchered_ her!"

"And they paid for it," Raphael reminded, "and all will still pay for your pain."

"She was innocent!" he screamed, punching the ground at their feet and leaving a small crater behind.

Raphael was quick to grab his hands before he could destroy them as raw instinct pushed reason to the back of his mind.

But by all the guardian forces, it hurt!

It hurt so much to remember!

It hurt so much to _feel_…

"She was innocent," he repeated, his hands fisting in the fabric of Raphael's short cloak.

"As were you, my child," Raphael said, "As were you all."

And as Castiel laid there in the arms of his brother, trembling with overwhelming pain, he realized that within that pain rage was growing. Stronger and stronger until he bowed -the broken body of his lover still fresh on his mind—that he would make them all pay for the pain caused…

For _her_ pain and suffering, he will leave none alive…

**-o0o-**

**Sephiroth Crescent **placed Tifa on the bed of her room before pushing the button that would close the door and give them a little bit more privacy. It was hard to believe how smooth things had worked out, but he would be lying if he said he was not utterly exhausted.

"I could have walked, you know?" she said out of the blue, eyeing him with an amused twinkle in her eyes that made his lips quirk into a smile.

Nodding in acceptance, he pretty much agreed with a vague, "You could have."

The female -who had become, without a doubt, the most treasured person in his life- brought her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. Idly, she placed her chin atop one of her kneecaps and withdrew into retrospection.

The unconscious chewing of her lower lip, however, told him that she was mulling over something she wasn't sure whether she should ask or say out loud.

After a few seconds of waiting for her to make up her mind, the general decided to make things easier by prompting the subject with a simple, "I'm listening."

His words made Tifa blush causing, naturally, his interest to increase tenfold.

"I…I was just wondering…well, since there are so many people in the ship and not enough rooms… well, I was just thinking that maybe you…"

He smiled, his mind already making the connection she was trying to voice.

"Do you want me to say here with you?" he asked, trying hard not to grin boyishly at her. How was it that she could make his heart beat so furiously with a simple look, or smile, or word?

Tifa's blush deepened and he knew he'd nailed her request.

"Well…," she cleared her throat and eyed him with mock caution, "…will you? I mean, what good is having a room all to myself if I am not sharing it with someone?" she pointed out, becoming more bold as she expanded her reasoning.

"Very well, if that is your wish, I can only comply," Sephiroth responded smoothly, moving towards his things to get ready for bed.

After all, he was ready to bet that both of them were so tired that, as soon as they lay down, they would slip right into Siren's realm. And considering the days ahead, it was truly a good idea to take advantage of the moment of peace given while it lasted.

As he reached this conclusion, his nimble fingers worked on undoing the buckles of his coat so that, within seconds, he's slipped the garment off and had draped it on one of the chairs. Opening his bag, he took out his white wife beater and was about to put it on, when Tifa spoke.

"Why don't you leave it off?"

Turning to face her, he found her cheeks blushing an entirely different shade of red, reminiscent of the day she'd kissed him for the first time. The hand covering her mouth, however, made him wonder if the words had been deliberate or if they'd simply been blurted out without conscious thought.

Regardless, this was a rather nice boom to his ego.

"Is that an order, my leader?" he asked playfully, seductively, tauntingly.

Tifa's fingers played with one lock of hair and she gave him such a smoldering look, that he was suddenly aware that, somehow, the table had been turned and he was the one being played. And, damn, he wasn't displeased about this in the slightest!

"Yes, Sephiroth Crescent," she said with a secretive smile, patting the spot on the bed beside her, "that is an order."

Almost all of him felt willing to succumb to her call, except for a small part that allowed its insecurity to be known in low whispers inside his head. Brushing that part away, however, he decided that he didn't want to hold secrets anymore.

Not with her at any rate.

Never with her.

So, strolling towards the bed, he sat down in the spot she'd indicated and somewhat leaned over to work on the straps of his long boots. He felt the curtain of his hair shifting away from his back and he closed his eyes.

The expected gasp came accompanied by trembling fingers tracing one of the thirteen scars that decorated his back.

"Sephiroth," she called in a whisper filled with… with what? "Is this why…?"

"Tifa… You ask me once why I wore my hair long," he said, knowing exactly what she was referring to. "I answered with the truth. I wear it long out of vanity. For isn't trying to hide an ugly side considered vanity?"

"Oh, Seph…"

His heart constricted, his entire spine straightened and he turned to face her, her hand falling to her lap.

"I do not want pity, Tifa," he told her sternly. But in reality, he was sure his eyes were pleading her not treat him differently.

He was ready and willing to bare his very soul to her, so long as she did not treat him like a broken man. For it was, essentially, that which had enticed him the most about her. It was the fact that, in her eyes, he was whole, human and precious.

Tifa smiled tenderly at him and she caressed his cheek with a featherlike touch. He closed his eyes when she leaned over to kiss, not his lips –as he had expected—but his forehead.

"I feel…," she began, pressing her forehead to his and holding his hands in hers. "I feel…sadness by the thought that you would suffer so much on your own. And I feel anger against those who dared harm you. And I also feel pain for knowing I was not there to kiss your pain away. And pride for being allowed to see this side of you which is a secret to everyone else and… and love, Sephiroth. That is what I feel the most."

Sephiroth felt a lump obstructing his throat and he pulled this woman… this beautiful creature into his embrace. The general, never having been so moved as he was by that short explanation, held the keeper of his sanity tightly, wishing to never let her go.

And when he was somewhat composed, he pulled away just enough to be able to capture her mouth in a kiss which he hoped said more than his words ever could.

Thank you.

And I love you too.

"We should go to sleep," he said after a while, "We need to regain our energies before the morrow."

Tifa –_did she looked disappointed?—_nodded and, without a word, pulled him down with her. With a quick movement of her arm, she covered them both with the thick blanket before snuggling closer to him.

"You are unhappy with the suggestion?" he pointed out, feeling her lips quirk as she press them to his naked shoulder.

"Let's just say I was looking forward to finishing something we started a while back," she responded cryptically, sending waves of warmth down to his groin.

It took all of his discipline to stop himself from pinning her under him and ravishing her just then and there.

"I believe it will be better to finish when we are better rested… and when we have more _privacy_," he argued, caressing the curve of her waist.

When he felt her shiver under his touch, he smiled with satisfaction.

"Are you implying that you'll make me scream?" she taunted in a playful whisper, probably trying to get back at him for that bold move.

Sephiroth filled his mind with enough disgusting images to keep from getting aroused by his little minx's words.

"You are not helping," he admitted, wondering whether he would have to end up taking a cold shower after all.

Tifa giggled, closed her eyes, sighed and said, "G'night."

The general smirked, kissed her forehead and responded, "Goodnight, Tifa Lockhart."

**-o0o-**

**Yuffie Kisaragi** followed Reeve through the ship. The man held a knocked out Rie in his arms and looked between troubled and intrigued.

"I can't believe she just fell asleep in the middle of our meeting!" Yuffie pointed out with a smile.

Reeve smiled back at her, "You'd be surprised if I told you the places where she'd fallen asleep."

"Well, seems to me that the only place where she can't sleep is in her own bed, then!" the ninja half-joked, but, unfortunately, her companion seemed to take the matter more seriously than she'd intended.

For a while, awkward silence descended upon them.

When Yuffie could take it no more, she decided to spin the subject in a different direction, "What do you think of that Genesis fellow, anyways?"

The scientist stop mid-step, turned to her, quirked an eyebrow and said… nothing.

"Well?" she prompted confused.

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, GAWD, I'm sure you saw the same thing I –and almost all the room with the exception perhaps of the man starting with Ba and ending with rret—saw."

"Which is?"

Man he could play very hard when he wanted to, she gave him that.

"Really? Must I spell it out for you?" she snapped getting frustrated. "The man clearly has developed some kind of interest or somethin' for your apprentice!"

Reeve pressed his lips together, turned around and continued walking. Confused, she trailed after him.

"I haven't decided yet what to think of it," he confided just when she had given up on making conversation.

Yuffie nodded, "I'll keep an eye on him for ya. I know how much _she_ means to you."

Man, that really sounded… bitchie. She hadn't intended for her tone to sound so bitter, but she couldn't help it. Sometimes she wasn't sure what kind of relationship those two had!

"Yes, well… Rie is… she's fragile, Yuffie," he explained, sparing a sidelong glance at her. "She is the most breakable out of all of us. And I… she's like my _daughter,_ you know?"

Yuffie smiled broadly, feeling her heart swell with hope. A daughter! That was what she was!

YES! YES! YES!

That was the best thing Reeve could have told her.

"I… Yuffie, may I ask a favor of you?" his solemn tone snapped her off her figurative victory dance.

She tilted her head to the side and said, way too eagerly, "Of course!"

"I know you two are sharing a room, but I was wondering… I mean, this is going to sound weird, but humor me, okay?"

She nodded, getting very nervous all of a sudden. What could make Reeve so hesitant? After all, not even when Tifa had announced he would be her second in command, had he been so tongue-tide like he was right now.

_What is it Reeve? What could be-_

"Is there a way you can share a bed with Rie?"

_-so hard that…_

_Wait, what?_

"What!" she blurted. Yeap, she wasn't one to hold things in… at all.

Reeve stopped in front of the door to their room and shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"The nightmares… they only come when Rie sleeps in a bed by herself. When she sleeps with someone else, they don't seem to bother her," he explained awkwardly, not looking at her.

Yuffie's eyes became slits, "And you know this… how exactly?"

Reeve cleared his throat, spun around, pushed the button that would open the door and disappeared inside.

_Oh, no, you won't! _

The ninja just followed him like a shadow… or like a tiger ready to pounce and bite his brain out.

"Reeve," she called in a growl, caressing one of her hidden kunais and deciding that she would probably rip him a new one if his answer was not satisfying.

Having placed Rie on the bed, he turned to face her and sighed.

"We shared a bed during one of the missions," he explained.

"You did what!"

"Nothing happened!" he added quickly, and the fear in his eyes was so real… that she couldn't help but trust him. Or perhaps _her_ fear was the one that pushed her to believe him…?

Crossing her arms, she forced her eyes to look away –not wishing him to see the hurt his words had caused her. But the thing was, even after learning this, she did not feel inclined to deny him anything…

"Fine," she said, biting the inside of her cheek.

To her surprise, she felt Reeve kissing her cheek and whispering a thank you. By the time she turned to him, though, he had already give his back to her and was leaving.

Yuffie smiled at his retreating form and unconsciously brought her fingers to the spot where his lips had been pressed against her skin.

After a moment, she snapped out of her drunken stupor and giddily climbed the bed she would be sharing with Rie. The sudden creaking and shifting of the mattress made her hold her breath, thinking that she'd just woken the other girl up.

However, after a few minutes, she thanked Siren that that wasn't the case and sighed with relief.

For a while she just laid there, looking at the ceiling and wondering why Reeve had shared a bed with Rie in that occasion.

After a while, her lids began to feel heavy and she rolled on her side, getting ready to succumb to the call of rest. Yet, just before her eyes could fully close, Rie rolled on her side, facing her. It was only then that Yuffie noticed the tears rolling down her face. Her heart, which had been beating so happily only moments before, constricted at the sight.

_Are you really free of nightmares, Rie?_

"Hollow eyes… she'as hollow eyes," Rie whimpered, mumbling something else which Yuffie could not decipher. It was something about clouds, maybe?

Motherly instincts waking up, the ninja drew closer to the other girl and wrapped her arms around her. Immediately, the tears and sniffs stopped.

"I'll keep the nightmares away tonight, okay?" she whispered, holding the girl close and hoping that her promise would prove true…

**To be continued…**

**

* * *

**

**AN:** Alright, I would like to make a clarification if you will indulge me:

**About Cloud**: I know that most of you –if not all—were expecting another outburst from Cloud. In fact, I even wrote it down, but the more I re-read it, the less believable it felt for me. Fact is, when have you ever seen a big outburst or show of emotion from Cloud? Usually what he does is, he hides or retreats… so after reflecting upon this (and his overall personality) I decided upon having him accept this change on his own.

**Rating: ** So… yeah. Right now this story is rated T. However, I might be thinking of writing some lime-ish scenes in the future. What do you guys think of this? Would you prefer that I kept it at T. Or would you rather that I switch it to M?

**About Couples:** Well, I would also like to ask something. How many of you want me to dedicate some scenes to other couples beside the main one (SephyxTeef)? And if so, which couples are you the most interested in reading about?

**Fanart: **Right now I am working on the scene of Rie perched on the machine with Genesis pushing it. But I also would like to restate that there's a new fanart made by Guren if you wish to check it out!


	26. Unavoidable Trials

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any of its characters. I am just burrowing them for a while.

**Author's notes: **Well, first of all, I apologize for the LONG wait. Things got crazy. I am currently enrolled in a master degree program and it took most of my time. Right now, though officially on vacation, I got myself into summer school in hopes of finishing this degree faster, thus I do not have as much free time as I would like. However, I will try to keep making time to write this, for I don't like leaving things unfinished.

Thank you all for your support. As of now, I will leave the story T rated. And I'll also try to get some side couples their own scenes every now and then.

Well, on with the story then!

**EDIT: **Thanks to Sephiroth Owa13, who pointed out an inconsistency with the story. Since I had stopped writing this for a while, I was foggy in some of the details. There has been a minor edit with Tifa's scene.

**Quick thanks to logged-on readers: **_Riiiceballe, Ghedea, Sephiroth Owa13, SharinganUserX, Eva Von Dee, MinnieMouse8990, brokenmaelstrom, Slyefoxfury, CNome, Goopy Sentimentalist, LoveableDimples16, .o0XxGurenxX0o., Kelana-ti, Command76, always-kh, KuraOkami13, Galiriol, LunaNyx, Shari Joy Rose, Krho, Blue Deity, darkangelwp05, iana silmir, Jillato, beloveddaughteroftheking _and _A'den Neytiri Kad._

**Quick replies to anonymous readers: **Shadow Blackheart _(Yeah, sometimes Rie isn't the brightest crayon on the box, lol. Thanks for the review!), _PearlWhite _(Thanks! I am trying to be as objective with Cloud as possible in order to be fair to him as a character that should be able to grow and mature. I am glad you enjoyed his POV. As to what is coming…well, you'll just have to find out!), _Helen_ (Lol. Thanks! It seems Yuffie x Reeve became a popular couple. I'm glad since I myself didn't even see that one coming, lol.), _Myra _(Well, I am glad you gave this another chance. Thank you for the compliments and hope you continue to read and ejoy!), _andacolyte of the bloody moon _(Thanks! Hope you enjoy this!)._

**Special thanks: **_To all of you who sent me messages here and in DA and asked me to continue. I apologize for the long wait and want you guys to know that you pushed me to keep this going! _

**Typos pointed out by**: _Sephiroth Owa13, Goopy Sentimentalis _and _Ex Oxide. _

**~Enjoy** and don't forget to **review**!

* * *

"_Emotions are like gusts of wind, they are needed to give movement even if sometimes they can cause hurricanes."_

_-Bernard de Fontanelle-_

"**One Winged Angels"**

By: FenixPhoenix

**Chapter 26: "Unavoidable Trials"**

* * *

**Vincent Valentine **followed Reeve down the steely passage in solemn silence. For two hours, they'd been hanging on the deck of the ship, the only part that was solitary enough to have a private talk. The conversation had revolved around theories concerning their enemies' sudden interest in Rie –specifically, her blood.

Vincent had been beyond baffled to find out that Reeve himself hardly knew things about his protégé. For the last two years, he'd been subtly studying Rie, always being careful not to let her find out she was constantly being observed. As time, passed, however, Reeve confided that it had become harder and harder to maintain objectivity when dealing with her.

"There is an innocence about her that is, in a weird way, charming," Reeve had explained, and Vincent found himself agreeing with a silent nod. After all, perhaps it was indeed this characteristic what had allured Chaos and, he was not about to lie about it, himself too.

By the end of their exchange, though, both had agreed that –no matter the consequences—this new eventuality forced them to take a more active stand in regards to Rie. Whatever their enemies had found they too needed to know in order to avoid unwanted surprises.

Thus, here they were, arriving at the place where they knew Rie would be working still on the samples she'd recovered from Tifa, for she had barely left the room since yesterday.

"I'll do the talking," Reeve said grimly, and it occurred to Vincent just then that some part of the scientist was not looking forward to what was to unfold.

A curt nod in confirmation from him made Reeve heave a low but long sigh before pushing the button that would open the door. Reeve stepped inside and Vincent followed a couple of seconds later, uncertain –for the first time- whether this was the right time to have this discussion.

_It's too late now, _he figured, as he leaned on the wall near the door, wishing to be as inconspicuous as possible.

The men found her at the far end of the room. She was sitting in front of a computer, typing as though her life depended on finishing her report in record time. She was so focused on her job, that she didn't noticed their presence until Reeve cleared his throat, a thing that made her jump in surprised not devoid of a hint of fright.

"Aaaaah!" She spun her chair in their direction and, realizing it was them, she forced a smile, though her breathing remained fast and shallow. "Reeve, Vincent Valentine…," she called, more to herself than as a greeting. After an awkward pause, she added, "I -You scared me…," she gave a shaky laugh. "Is there something you need assistance with?"

If her weird behavior was suspicious, Reeve hid it well.

Smoothing invisible wrinkles off of his robe, the seasoned scientist moved closer to the girl and perched half his buttocks on the edge of an empty table. Vincent, for his part, decided best to keep his distance, especially since he could feel Chaos looming at the edge of the line which divided their consciousness, an action which reinforced his caution.

Thus, he stayed near the door, ready to bolt if needed be.

"Well… Vincent and I have been talking and…," Reeve stopped. It was clear he was struggling to find a way to breach the subject of their meeting as carefully as possible. Unfortunately, Vincent could not come up with a way of helping him, so that when Reeve turned to him looking for support, the gunslinger just shrugged.

_Weren't you supposed to do the talking?_ He wanted to say, but kept quiet, knowing that his comment would be not only unwelcome, but unhelpful too.

Looking from one man to the other, Rie pressed a button and the screen she was working on disappeared. Vincent found the action odd, his Turk skills prompting him to wonder what it was she had been working on before they'd walked into the room.

Sparing a glance at Reeve, he realized the other man had not noticed anything, since his attention was focused instead in the grey clouds outside the window. Either that or he was purposely ignoring Rie's actions.

Whatever the reason for this, Vincent had agreed to follow the other man's lead and so, again, he pushed his suspicious to the back of his mind.

No sooner had he done that, that the gunslinger felt Rie's eyes on him. Switching his attention, he found her staring right at him –at his very soul even—with an intensity that almost made him break eye contact and lose the fragile control he had over the situation.

Inside him, Chaos wriggled and scratched against his skull, tempted to be left out and making Vincent shivered with the array of emotions the demon was thrusting at him. Excitement and caution were the two predominant ones but Vincent was not sure which was his and which was Chaos'.

"Your blood," the gunslinger blurted, breaking the silence that had stretched between them. And hoping that, with that, he would hold onto his sanity.

Reeve Tuesti, upon hearing him, turned so quickly, that Vincent was sure he'd pulled one of the nerves in the back of his neck –if the hand brought up to massage that spot was any indication.

"My… blood?" Rie enquired, her pitch slightly higher than normal, but the facade at confusion was good enough to almost fool him. After all, she _had_ to know, in some level, that this would eventually come up, right?

The scientist, perhaps sensing the tension that was quickly rising, opted to elaborate, "Rie… we were wondering, have you any idea why the 'man' called Castiel would want a sample of your blood?"

Clearly uncomfortable, the young woman crossed her arms as if to defend herself against a hostile force.

"I… I don't think it matters," she retorted weakly, unsure and, within that, maybe even scared.

"On the contrary," Reeve said softly, treading on what now Vincent felt was dangerous territory, "I think this merits some thought and study… don't you think?"

"There are a lot of more important things that need our attention," she insisted, her eyes trailing to the pile of papers that were sitting beside her computer.

"Rie, you know how critical it is for us to be informed as to what our enemies are up to, right?" Reeve reminded, using logical reasoning to back his statement.

And though the point made was a strong one, one of Rie's hands balled, twisting the fabric of her short jacket and her crossed arms pressed against her body even more. It was clear to him that she wanted to scram and, a look towards Reeve, confirmed his fears.

She was retreating into herself. The openness she had always displayed was being replaced with a cold tension that sent alarms ringing inside his head. Reeve glanced at him, allowing the gunslinger to see a hint of his own fear, before he turned his attention back to his protégé.

"Rie, we-" he began, but she interrupted him brusquely.

"No," it sounded so much like a plea, that Vincent felt his heart constricting at the sound.

"Rie, listen! You need to under-"

"NO!" She said again and, to their surprise, her tone was now hard, defiant, angry and scared at the same time. It was a far cry from the earlier denial.

Her mismatched eyes, however, filled with tears and it was that, more than anything, that broke Vincent's will to pursue the issue –and probably Reeve's too.

Slowly but surely, the gunslinger felt an emotional distance separating them, as if whatever link had been keeping them together had been broken. In response, Chaos roared with a fury that, though Vincent was able to empathize with, scared him half to death.

Reeve, for his part, must have been thinking and feeling the same way, for, paler than normal, he turned to him with eyes wide with fright.

_We screwed up,_ his dark eyes seemed to be saying.

But Vincent was not about to allow her to simply shut them out. So, hoping he would not regret what he was about to do, he pushed himself off the wall he'd been leaning on and strolled towards her. At the same time, he was careful to keep Chaos on a leash, hoping the proximity would not give force to the entity that was shaking with emotions.

Rie's spine straightened by his approach and she glared at him in such a way that he almost stopped on his tracks, but he pushed those thoughts –those _fears_ aside and continued onwards until he was looming over her.

Wordlessly, he stretched his claw in her direction, palm up and as relaxed as he could force it.

Rie frowned as her eyes jumped from him to his claw and back to him. Slowly, she tilted her head sideways in silent query, her eyes not warm but not cold either.

"You said you wanted to study it, did you not?" Vincent reminded faking nonchalance with the skills developed under his training with the Turks.

Slowly, her arms uncrossed and the muscles that had been altered somewhat relaxed. With little more than initial hesitation, she reached out with both hands to touch his claw with tentative fingers. The feeling of her warm skin against the cold metal almost made him shiver as it released a whirlwind of emotions he could not quite identify.

Contrary to what people thought, Vincent had not lost his sense of touch even when his hand had been enclosed by the golden metal. In fact, if anything, his sense had sharpened so that he felt things much more vividly than with his human hand.

Reeve's footsteps broke him out of whatever trance Rie had put him under. Well that and the fact that Rie's hand had tightened around his forearm when the scientist decided to remind them of his presence, a thing which –to his embarrassment- had slipped out of Vincent's mind.

"There are things to be done," Reeve explained cheerfully, ruffling his own hair to make light of the situation. "I will leave you two to… whatever it is you are going to do."

With that and nodding once in his direction in silent thanks, Reeve left as naturally as possible, though Vincent had managed to detect the utter relief that had draped the tone of his voice.

Rie, for her part, seemed to have forgotten the whole incident because, turning back to his claw, she began speaking –_was that excitement he heard?—_about the beautiful craftsmanship that was revealed in the design of his limb.

Vincent, allowing a smile to form on his thin lips, sat down in an empty chair and –for the first time since he'd come out of the coffin—allowed himself some respite from guilt and thought. If only for a while, he just wanted to feel and enjoy the moment.

But that was never to be, of course. For in the back of his mind, he knew that this issue could not be allowed to stay shrouded by darkness for much longer. One day, and that day would soon come, they would have to force it again.

His only hope was that, on that day, she too would be ready to reveal whatever secrets were chaining her to silence…

**-o0o-**

**Tifa Lockhart **closed her eyes as her heart was filled with… who was she trying to fool? It was resignation. It was cruel, dark and heavy resignation that felt like water entering her lungs and forcing her breath to become shallow and labored.

_Nibelheim_.

It was the city of flames and ghosts and ashes…

It was the grandest illusion created by ShinRa off of a _disillusion_.

The irony almost made her laugh, except that too many eyes –most of them filled with pain and doubt—were on her, waiting for her decision...

Slowly, she released the air she hadn't even noticed had been captured by her lungs. She leaned back, feeling as exhausted as when she'd woken up after her nightmarish fight with Jenova.

_Nibelheim_…

It didn't really matter how many times she told herself –or other people—that she'd gotten over that place, it was no more true now than it was on the day it burned to the ground.

Years later, Tifa was still haunted by that cold town.

And why not?

This was the place where she'd been born and killed and born again. It was place where she'd gone down in flames and then, like a phoenix, she'd been brought back. What she now wondered, though, is whether she had come to life stronger than before.

Part of her laughed cynically at the thought.

"I had considered it as well," Sephiroth's voice rouse from the silence left by Reeve's advice.

The General was sitting beside her, his arms crossed, his silver brow slightly furrowed. Apart from that small hint, however, his face remained cryptic. If the idea of going back to Nibelheim worried him as much as it did her, he hid it well.

Tifa Lockhart's eye widened a fraction with surprise. It was true! This was where Sephiroth had been planning on taking her when they'd boarded the ship in Junon, after all. Truth was, she had been so… _distracted _lately, that she'd pretty much forgotten about that!

As she digested this, Yuffie's voice brought her back to the present and hinted at the fact that her surprise could have been mistaken –not necessarily wrongly—with horror.

"We have to split up, Teef. So, I mean, ya don't really need to-"

Something inside her _snapped_.

"No, Sephiroth is right. We were planning on going there anyways," Tifa interrupted, forcing her tone to be calm and strong –a far cry from what she was feeling. Yet the last she needed was to show him –no, _them_ how friggin' scared she was six days after she'd been elected to lead.

After all, she knew –from personal experience—that a hesitant leader could be just as much a handicap as an incompetent one. And, for her friends if nothing else, she refused to be either one.

So gathering as many of her scattered wits as she was able to, she stood up with her chin up and back straight. It was her hope that she would be able to exude confidence without it turning to its darker sibling -arrogance.

She clenched her hands, reminded herself to keep breathing and spoke in a clear voice filled with steely resolution.

"Alright! We'll split up. One group will go to Nibelheim, the other to the ShinRa building in old Midgar," she decided, sweeping the crowded room once, her eyes lingering a bit longer on the calmly-seated figure of Sephiroth.

It irritated her, somewhat, to see him so composed while she felt so… vulnerable and fragile! She forced the thought –the feelings—to the back of her mind and focused instead on what had to be done.

One of her hands, however, clenched tighter, nails digging into her skin but she paid it no mind as she made the decision that fate dictated, "I'll lead the group that would go to Nibelheim and Reeve would lead the second group."

To her credit, her voice neither broke nor trembled and her eyes neither closed nor teared.

By Gaia's sake, she was a warrior! And she would be damn if something as idiotic as a trip down memory lane rendered her helpless!

As soon as the sound of her voice died, a chaotic blur of events followed.

The groups took two hours to form, with some unhappy people wanting to switch and threats being issued back and forth. At some point, Reno brought his gun out and pointed it at the hard-headed Barret, who angrily lifted his machingun and made the Turk scowl.

It was, surprisingly, Genesis who ended up calming everybody by using an ice spell to freeze the troublemakers from the shoulders down. Though it was a temporary solution, which earned him a good number of glares, it kept blood from being spilled and Tifa was grateful for it.

In the end the groups were decided and, since her group would be using a car to reach Nibelheim, she ended up with only three people apart from herself. Of course, given the caliber of said people, she was not about to start complaining.

In her group were Sephiroth, Genesis and Vincent.

So, once everyone grunted their acceptance –some quite forcedly—she was about to end the meeting when Rie, who had been sitting quietly in a corner, spoke for the first time.

"Tifa Lockhart, I would also like to join the Nibelheim expedition."

From all the gathered, Reeve seemed to be the one that was the most against this. While Yuffie –whom Tifa had forced into confiding the feelings she held for the scientist—was quick to send her a silent plea for help.

The thing was, Yuffie wanted to spend some 'alone' time with Reeve, a thing which was difficult considering how the man worried over his protégée and would hardly leave her alone.

At the same time, to add to her surprise, when Reeve began to point out –politely and politically, of course –_the man was an expert!_- how Rie might be a burden to the group, Vincent and Genesis were quick to brush the excuses aside.

"Nonsense," Genesis had said.

"She won't," Vincent had said at the same time.

The two warriors had looked at each other blankly, before turning their eyes to Tifa.

The martial artist shifted her weight, knowing that they were expecting her to decide on this issue.

She brought a hand up to brush her bangs aside as she carefully considered the situation, weighting her options and deciding on how to speak her mind.

_Four against one, it seems,_ she figured after a short while, starting to get warm to the idea of having another girl in her group. Plus, Reeve always preached how good a scientist and researcher Rie was, and research was what they needed to do. In fact, the quicker they did it, the quicker they would be able to leave Nibelheim and all its dark ghosts behind.

Now fully convinced, Tifa Lockhart gave Reeve an apologetic look before speaking, "Don't worry, we'll take care of her. Plus, you said it yourself once, Reeve, she's good at finding relevant information. Perhaps her natural skill would come in handy during our search."

With a defeated look, the scientist relented, "Alright. If that is your decision, then I will abide by it."

Those words ended the meeting and everyone left to prepare for the journey ahead. Tifa, after giving final instructions to Reno and Rude –who would be going back to Rufus to report on what was happening and what would happen—left for her room without addressing anyone else.

As she walked down the hallway, she prepared a mental list of what she would be taking with her. She needed two changes of clothes, her premium hearts –fully equipped with her best material—and, last but not least, a goodnight sleep for, she was sure, soon sleep was to become a luxury.

Sephiroth did not join her until three hours later. It was late by then and she was already in bed. She'd turned off the lights and had attempted –in vain—to enter the realm of Siren. But thoughts of Nibelheim in combination with the fear that her General might be avoiding her rendered her restless.

Still, when he came in, she made no acknowledgement of his presence, despite the fact that –deep within—she was filled with a notion of relief. Instead, she remained on her side with her eyes focused on the dark sky outside her window. There were no stars tonight for heavy clouds threatened to bring a downpour upon the face of Gaia.

The brunette smiled sadly at the poetic thought that perhaps this rainy night could be a sort of reflection of her inner turmoil.

"Tifa…," Sephiroth called softly, and his voice was like a silky caress to her soul. She closed her eyes, _tasting_ the smoothness of the sound.

A shift on the empty space beside her and then… his naked hand with those long, pianist fingers began stroking her shoulder. With a feather-like touch, they moved up towards her face, the curtain of his hair tickling her arm as he leaned towards her.

"Are you asleep?" he asked in a careful –_perhaps loving?_- whisper.

Slowly, she opened the eyes she'd closed when he'd first spoken. He was right there, so near and so very beautiful. Luminescent eyes the color of the lifestream stared at her so intently, that she blushed and all those endless, painful thoughts of abandonment left her in a rush. Twisting in his tenuous grasp, she grabbed him by the leather straps of his coat and pulled him down.

And the powerful General, with only a slight hint of initial surprise, allowed himself to be handled.

In the darkness her lips found his and she kissed him hungrily, with a passion –a hunger that almost scared her.

Not seconds ago she had been wondering if she'd lost him to their nightmare, but now the relief she'd felt was giving ground to a feeling that was too strong to control and to confusing to name…

Whatever had expanded and exploded felt like lava igniting her insides. Indeed, a fire had been set within the deepest recesses of her heart. Unlike other times, it wasn't a tender flame. This was burning her from the inside out. It felt wild, insatiable and, because of that, dangerous.

Sephiroth must have been feeling the same because this time he didn't even attempt to stop the passion that she'd started with her kiss –_or perhaps he'd started it with his words_?

Regardless of where, how or who had started this, the wave of lava had now a life of its own. It rushed out of her core to cover all her extremities, rushing, filling and consuming everything –thoughts, fears, ideas… they all disappeared, giving way for all her focus to rest on the man looming above her.

Her eyelids closed heavily when his lips left hers and moved down to trace her jaw line, and neck and ears.

She felt his hands exploring her with a touch that was seemingly tender and savage at the same time. Expert fingers touched and stroked her skin and muscles, from the tips of her feet, up the sides of her powerful legs and up the curves where hips became waist and waist became chest. She shivered and moaned and kissed and did her own exploring, hands taking decisions on their own as her mind worked sluggishly to make sense of the chaos she'd plunged into.

At some point they were both shirtless, but that's when they stopped. It had been an unvoiced unanimous decision that might have been made by their subconscious, for she had been feeling good up until then.

But even though the fury of the fire inside her was decreasing, the passion was still there, throbbing in every single muscle of her body. The thumping of her heart was so loud that it felt as though she had one-hundred hearts spread throughout her body, all beating in unanimous harmony…

Still panting, he twisted so that instead of being on top of her, he was on his side. Leaning forward, he captured her swollen lips one more time and tightened his hold around her. She shifted closer to him and aptly intertwined her limbs with his, finding again how good they seemed to fit with each other.

For some reason, she found she was holding onto him for dear life, afraid that, if she let go, he would disappear.

"I will never leave you," he whispered, kissing the head she'd leaned on his chest and stroking her naked back, tracing patterns that only he knew existed.

Her eyes stung a bit as they watered, but she kept the tears in. She closed her eyes, feeling at ease by those heartening words being uttered while in the protective cocoon of his arms.

How was it that he knew exactly what she needed to hear?

How was it that he could read her better than she could read herself?

"I will never leave you, Tifa Lockhart," he repeated, and it was then she heard the tremble of his tenor and realized that he might be trying to reassure himself too.

Maybe, just maybe, he was as scared as she was…

Smiling, she tightened the hold she had around his waist and allowed him some well-earned respite.

"Nor I you, Sephiroth Crescent," she assured, and as soon as she did that, she felt some of his tensed muscles relaxing and knew she had been right.

Even the greatest ShinRa General could hold fear in his soul and doubt in his heart.

After that, no more words were spoken and no further movements made. At some point, without intending to, she'd drifted into a heavy slumber. But just before her consciousness fully slipped away, she managed to hear a whispered apology draped with pain… but hard as she tried, she could not answer back.

**-o0o-**

**Sephiel **struggled to stay on his feet, but the throbbing pain brought him eventually down to his knees. Shaking uncontrollably, his human hand reached and took hold of the silver limb, the source of his pain and newest troubles.

_Damn it! Damn this fucking piece of silver trash! _

The artificial hand that had replaced his missing limb felt as though Uriel had set it on fire with the blow he'd delivered which, truthfully, had not been as vicious as he knew the older man could deliver.

Irritated, he glared darkly at the metallic limb. The red shade, a reflection of the retreating sun, made it look as it felt –as though it had been left to heat on the hearth of a fire for endless hours.

"You've got to get used to it, brother," Uriel reminded sternly, retrieving Sephiel's sword from where it had landed after his disarming attack.

Sephiel switched his glare to the big guy.

"Fuck! What the hell do you think I'm doing!" he vented the frustration he'd been feeling for the past few days. Closing his eyes, he waited for the pain to subside –though he knew it would never leave altogether—and then sighed tiredly.

He heard Uriel's heavy steps approaching and, not wishing a sermon, he regained his feet and uncoiled his arm to wordlessly ask for his sword. The big warrior threw the weapon up and caught it expertly by the blade so that he could offer it back to him by the hilt.

Sephiel felt his irritation increased by the action that –even though it might have been simply a kind gesture— felt like a patronizing reprimand.

"Don't think too much of it, brother," Uriel said, letting go off the sword before Sephiel had grabbed it and thus allowing it to fall to the ground.

The swordmaster clenched his jaw and bent down to retrieve the weapon he could no longer wield with the skill he thought he would never lose.

How wrong of him to take for granted such a thing…

"I'm trying, Uriel," he grunted, hating the fact that his artificial limb –though made of a such a strong material—had weakened in this most unpredictable way.

Odin! When would this fucking pain go away, anyways?

Even more than that, he wanted to know when this fucking thing would react the way he wanted it to!

"Does it still pain you much?" Uriel asked, a small hint of worry entering his tone.

Sephiel realized then that he had been unconsciously rubbing at the spot where metal met skin. Cursing the guardians and his enemies, he forced himself to stop.

"This should not have happened…," the big man said, leaving his words hanging.

Sephiel turned away stubbornly, knowing what he was aiming at with that comment and not liking it. Despite his current anger, he did not regret doing what he did. Sure, he'd lost his swordarm and, because of that, most of his skill, but he had gained so much more…

"It doesn't help that you've been distracted lately," Uriel continued to accused, "and the fact that you are exerting –and exhausting- yourself at night doesn't help either."

Sephiel coughed and heat rose to his face, turning it –he was sure—a deep shade of crimson.

Jezbel had been sharing his bed ever since he'd confessed his feeling for her. Though they had tried to be as conspicuous as possible, the fact that Uriel knew about their relationship showed how thoroughly they'd failed!

Fuck! Fuck! _Fuck!_

Who else knew about this!

"You are aware that Mother will never allow it, are you not?"

Uriel's words made him pale and tremble with something that had nothing to do with pain.

It was _fear_.

Cold, bitter and paralyzing fear was what made him gaze at his brother with widened eyes. Because the young warrior knew exactly what the underlying message had been and the implications it carried.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," he denied weakly, clenching his jaw when he realized he'd spoken with the shaky tone of one who is trying to deceive.

"Do not lie to me, Sephiel!" Uriel roared and it was the first time he saw this gentle man bare his teeth in hot anger. "Never _ever_ lie to me, brother!"

Sephiel gave a step back and tried to recover from his sudden surprise and, he was not about to deny it, his increased fright.

He opened his mouth and close it again, unsure of what to say or how to act now that his secret was out.

Yes, Uriel –even though he had not said it—knew that he'd lied to everyone, Raphael included, when he'd reported on what had happened.

But what was he to do?

Had he said he'd lost his arm in order to save Jezbel –someone that was considered less necessary than himself—they would know that the feelings he held for her were strong enough to push him to sacrifice his own life for hers! They would know he had broken the only rule they'd been given –never to waver on their loyalty to Jenova, and by extension, to Raphael.

If a life was to be sacrificed, it would have to be for Jenova and for no one else!

But by taking the hit that had been aimed at Jezebel, Sephiel had discarded all thoughts of his mission and of Jenova and had switched his loyalty to the beautiful healer. He'd given his heart and soul, which were supposed to be Jenova's, to her... to his lovely Jezbel…

"I'm sorry, brother," he said just above a whisper. But he wasn't sure if he really meant those words. For he was not sorry he'd saved Jezbel, he was only sorry that he'd been careless enough to not hide his sentiments as much as he'd planned to.

Uriel sighed, the tensed muscles of his shoulders relaxed and all his anger left his face in a second. It was rather hard to conceive that this peaceful looking man had been mad with rage not long ago.

"We'll continue practicing tomorrow," he said, turning his back on the younger man. As he started to walk away, he added over his shoulder, "Get a good night _rest _for now."

Overcoming his fear, Sephiel gave a couple of steps forward and stopped the other male by grabbing one of his muscled arms.

"Uriel, you-"

The man placed a hand atop Sephiel's silver limb and turn sideways to look at him with the gentle eyes of the believer who –even after so much death and tragedy- had not disappeared.

"Do not fear me, brother. Your secret is safe with me," he whispered sincerely, then he turned back around and added, almost as an afterthought, "You will always be safe with me, Sephiel…"

Sephiel's eyes winded as he watched his big brother walking down the hill. Slowly, as he gazed upon the warrior's broad back, his eyes filled with tears and his heart expanded in such a way, he felt it might burst out of his chest due to a mixture of pride, relief and pain.

Pride because he had realized that he'd been right in trusting such a man.

Relief because he knew Uriel had always spoken the truth to him- even now.

And pain because, in a cruel twist of fate, Sephiel had just pushed Uriel to break his oath too.

For Uriel, by keeping his secret, had chosen him over Jenova…

**-o0o-**

**Genesis Rhapsodos** was sitting behind Sephiroth in one of the WRO's military trucks. An awfully calm-looking Tifa Lockhart was sitting on the front beside him, reading a magazine about the different monsters found in the region around Nibelheim. Genesis figured she might have come to terms with their mission and, like the leader she was, she had embraced the challenge.

He smiled at the thought. Looking at her last night –all power, resolution and fierceness on the face of her tragic past—he'd understood why Sephiroth had been so drawn to her. In fact, he'd also understood why Minerva had chosen her from out of all the assembled warriors at her disposal.

She was a woman to fear if you stood against her in a battlefield –be that physical or verbal.

Behind said war angel, sat the solemn figure of Vincent Valentine, who was currently entertained in polishing his wicked gun, which was, truthfully, more like a rifle. The man seemed more at ease in the silence that had descended upon the group since they'd started their journey, than he'd seen him in Cid's cheerful airship.

_As if I care about the brooding guy,_ he heard a voice inside him said and he immediately switched his attention to the girl sitting between them.

_Rie_…

She was the recurring star of most of his latest dreams, fantasies and, yes, his troubles too.

Sighing tiredly, the poet crossed his arms, leaned his head back lazily and stared out his window. The view was plain, mostly dirt and grass dulled by a stormy-looking sky. Though his eyes were glued to what was outside, he really wasn't _looking_ at it.

No, his mind was engaged in trying to make sense of the annoying feeling that seemed to have latched itself, like a blood-sucking leech, on the center of his mind –_or was it his heart?_

His lips quirked in a bitter smirk. He was not about to deny knowing what this unwelcomed feeling meant, for he had been introduced to it since a long time ago. In fact, he was so acquainted with it, that it had been one of the things that had pushed him to excel.

It was _jealousy_.

He first felt it when he'd heard of Sephiroth and it had merely grown –in power and intensity—when he'd began training with him in ShinRa. The rivalry born between them have been pushed and strengthen by jealousy and the desire to overcome it by showing Sephiroth he was stronger, faster, deadlier… just better.

Of course, no matter what he did, the sentiment seemed unwilling to be brushed aside or ignored… that is, until he'd fought Angel's pup.

Losing to Zack had humbled him. Then Minerva had pulled him into the lifestream and, when he'd come out, he'd _changed_. He could feel it in every part of his soul. Some things inside him had broken –the weakest parts—and other parts were strengthen so that, by the time he came out of his cave and had found Sephiroth—that maddening jealousy had, maybe not disappeared, but decreased into more acceptable levels.

And yet, here it was again. It was jealousy, alright. But it was also different from the one he'd always felt towards the other SOLDIER.

This jealousy was much more uncontrollable and way more annoying.

Why?

Because he was not the one determining where or when it started. No, the one who determined it was Vincent Valentine, who fed wood to the fire of that sentiment whenever he gazed at Rie. Because those blood eyes were not devoid of a hint of interest beyond that of a simple companion.

And he ought to know what that look meant, for Genesis had seen that same look in the mirror. Indeed, whenever he was thinking of Rie, his eyes –normally playful and cold—became soft and… and…just… _different_.

The ex-SOLDIER, feeling tired just by thinking about all of this, heaved a low sigh. He closed his eyes when, unbidden, the memory of what had happened a few days ago popped into his head in all its visual detail.

_Genesis stopped when he reached the door to her temporary lab, recalling the crazy event that had led him here. _

_Cid, needing some help to repair one of the cars stored in the cargo area of the ship, had been grudgingly looking for Rie. Though the man seemed annoy, Genesis knew that he was counting on the scientist to help him out, especially given how fast she could learn new skills. After all, though he could not pretend to know the pilot a lot, he knew enough to understand that he lacked patience when it came to teaching someone part of his trade._

_Thus, Genesis –the ever considerate person that he was—had volunteered to help him find the mismatched-eyed girl. _

_Just as Cid could have been about to ignore him, the pilot had seen Shera wandering around the ship. Boisterously cursing her for not staying in their room and 'resting', like the doctor had prescribed, he'd accepted Genesis help after all. _

"_Brin' 'er to m' fuckin' room when you find 'er, will ya!" he'd said, as with worry belying his careless façade, he'd guided his pregnant woman back to their room. _

_Thus, here he was. Finally a door away from enjoying the company of the girl who'd seemed to have entered his mind and never left. _

_Smiling cheerfully at the prospect of having another one of their unexpected chats, he pushed the button that would open the door and…_

_He stopped. The sincere smile that had quirked his lips turned into a cold smirk and his eyes glinted with metaphorical ice. _

"_Oh, I hope I am not interrupting anything," Genesis forced himself to say in a laconic tone, as he watched a slightly scowling Vincent Valentine shrug back into his black shirt. _

"_No, we have just finished," Rie said from where she was sitting in front of the computer, saving some of the scans she'd taken –he assumed—of Vincent's golden claw. _

"_Might I enquired what you were 'working on'?" he asked, deliberately choosing to refer to this strange scene as work-related and not pleasure-related. _

"_None of your business," Vincent said icily, but Rie, who seemed oblivious to their animosity, answered his question politely. _

"_I took some scans and ran some test on Vincent Valentine's claw," she said as she finished typing something on the computer. Then, turning to the gunslinger, she added, "I'll let you know when I get the results, Vincent Valentine. Perhaps they can be of use if you ever allow me to make some alterations to it." _

_Vincent nodded curtly, finished buttoning his shirt and, retrieving the red cloak he'd draped on one of the chairs, turned to leave. _

"_Perhaps I shall," he said as a way of goodbye, before stepping out the door. _

_Genesis, however, scowled at those words. He felt the surge of jealousy, which he had kept hidden, clawing at his heart. _

_It was a bit annoying, truth be told, to feel this way when he wasn't even sure what had happened before he'd arrived. Or maybe it was precisely that –the fact that he only had some random facts, what kept him from feeling at ease. _

_After all, if he was to be honest, Vincent seemed to be the kind of guy that would attract women. He was tall, mysterious and strong. Plus, women were always attracted to the guys who seemed to be holding a world of tragedy on their shoulders… _

_Turning back to Rie, who was still typing, he wondered whether she was one of those women. _

"_Can I help you with something, Genesis Rhapsodos?" she asked, looking at him through the corner of her eyes. _

_The poet smiled, shoving his jealousy out of the way for the time being, and approached her. She stopped typing altogether when, standing beside her, he'd leaned forward to stare at her face –wanting to earn her complete and undivided attention._

_He succeeded and, to his further satisfaction, he even made her blush at their sudden proximity. _

"_So, Rie," he said silkily, "when are you going to study me?" _

"_Stuffy y—I mean, study you?" she said, frowning at her slip in words. _

_Genesis' smile widened. Poor girl! She had absolutely no idea what her nervousness meant, which only made thing much more interesting for him, of course. There was nothing like unpredictability and white innocence!_

_Taking a hold of one of her slim hands, he placed it on his chest. For some indescribable reason, he wanted to return the advantage he had over her. He wanted her to feel the beating of his heart and maybe understand that he was, in his own way, just as nervous as she was. _

"_Well, I am a successful genetic experiment, am I not?" he said, figuring that if there was ever a time where he should be thankful to ShinRa for what they'd done to him, it was now. _

_Rie blushed a shade deeper. _

"_Ah, I see… yes, I shook—I mean, should study…," she frowned again and, pulling her hand out of his grasp, she placed it on her forehead instead. "There is something wrong with me," she informed solemnly. _

_Genesis' eyebrows quirked upwards and his heart was, for an instance, filled with worry. But then she spoke again and that worry was brushed aside and replaced by mirth. _

"_My body temperature has risen and I seemed to be unable to think property-," she shook her head and corrected herself, "properly. To think properly!" she turned to her computer, brow furrowed and, with worry on her voice, she asked herself in a whisper, "These symptoms… what could they mean?"_

_The poet tried to maintain his solemnity and stepped a bit away from her. But, eventually, laughter –free and loud—erupted past his lips. At some point he bent over, feeling his stomach hurting and his eyes burning with tears. _

_He'd never in his life laughed so much. _

"_Why are you laughing? I would think that you would be taking my disease more seriously," she said chidingly, unaware that her words were only making him laugh even more. _

_Standing up, Rie slapped her desk and it was then he noticed she was angry, though she seemed as confused about the emotion as she was about her 'problem'. _

"_Enough!" she snapped, breathing shallowly. "You do not care at all-"_

_That sobered him and, before she could move away or finish her sentence, he'd grabbed her hand and kissed the red palm she'd used to slap the desk. _

"_I care," he said, surprising even himself with the honest tenor of his voice. _

_But the thing was… even if he'd blurt it out without conscience thought, it was true. _

_He really did care._

_After an awkward pause in which neither of them dared to move, he let go of her hand._

"_Can… can I help you with something?" she said again in a slightly shaky tone as she tried to regain her bearings. _

_He could not blame her, even he –who had a lot more experience in things like this- could feel himself blushing slightly at what had happened. _

"_Ah, yes. Cid's looking for you," the poet informed. "He said you should go get him at his room." _

_Rie nodded and, as she passed him by and was about to leave, Genesis hooked his fingers on her naked arm and stopped her. _

"_Infinite in mystery is the gift of the goddess. We seek it thus, and take to the sky," he said, reciting the first words that popped into his mind. _

"_I do not understand your message," she confided, and she seemed even more confused than before. _

_Genesis smiled and explained, "These are two of the lines that compose a beautiful poem." _

"_Poem?" she echoed, as though she'd never heard of it, "What do they mean, though?"_

_He smiled, "They mean everything and anything…," _

"_That makes no sense," she pointed out._

_The poet let go off her arm and turn to look her fully in the face._

"_The beauty of poems often reside in the fact that you can interpret them however you like," he explained, "I've given these lines thousands of interpretations and just now, I've given it a new one."_

_She cocked her head sideways and he could see curiosity replacing confusion, "What does it mean now, then?"_

_He used his Casanova smile, "It means that perhaps you are my gift from the Goddess." _

_Silence for a couple of minutes and then…_

"_You are a strange man, Genesis Rhapsodos," she said shaking her head and, without another word, she left._

_And as he stood there in complete solitude, he wondered whether that was a good thing. _

Genesis frowned at this last. Perhaps he should ask her if being strange was a good thing or a bad thing after all.

Before he could think more upon this, however, all thoughts stopped as he felt something touching his shoulder. Turning, he noticed that Rie had fallen asleep and, perhaps by the hand of destiny or by mere chance, she'd leaned on him.

Now, Genesis was not about to look a chocobo's gift on the beak, so –trying not to move much, else she should wake up and move away from him—he decided to regard this as _fate_. After all, had not every event of his life been, apparently, a plan of the Goddess?

Thus, under that logic, could this not be also part of her plan?

He smiled and allowed himself a small prayer to whoever was knitting his complex destiny.

_Whatever is in store for me… just let me have this moment… _

Slowly, he brushed some of her hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear. Rie shifted but, instead of waking and moving away, she moved closer and kept on sleeping.

And Genesis?

He chose to believe that his prayer –his petition, had been answered.

**To be continued…**

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**AN: **There should be some battle-action next chapter, so wait for it! And please don't forget to review!

**FanArt: **For those who haven't seen it, the newest art –Rie and Genesis—can be found in the links in my profile.


	27. Nibelheim's Last Song

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any of its characters. I am just burrowing them for a while.

**Author's notes: **Hope you guys enjoy this chapter. I was going to add another scene, but it got too long so I decided to keep it for the next chapter. Enjoy!

**Quick thanks to logged-on readers: **_TornAngelWings, Sephiroth Owa13, Goopy Sentimentalist, Midnight Marquis _and_ Command76._

**Quick replies to anonymous readers: **Shadow Blackheart _(Thank you very much for your understanding. I will still try to keep the time between updates shorter! Hope you enjoy this chapter!) _and xfranceex_ (Thanks for the review. It is perfectly fine if you do not like some of my OCs or some of my plot decisions, I am still happy that you continue to read. As to why I have so many evil characters, you'll see eventually the reason why. Anyways, hope you enjoy this chapter!)_

**Typos pointed out by**: _SephirothOwa13,_ _Goopy Sentimentalist _and _Ex Oxide_.

**~Enjoy** and don't forget to **review**!

* * *

"_Letting go doesn't meant giving up, but rather accepting that there are things that cannot be."_

_-Unknown-_

"**One Winged Angels"**

By: FenixPhoenix

**Chapter 27: "Nibelheim's Last Song"**

* * *

**Yuffie Kiseragi **scowled as she followed Reeve and the rest of the mismatched group down the precarious stairs. Behind her, a clumsy Barret kept stepping on her ankles, more than twice leaving her shoeless. He'd given up on apologizing after the fifth time, but after the eight one, Yuffie just wanted to rip him a new one.

"GAWD! Why can't we have a torch back here?" she whined, tugging at one of Reeve's sleeves in a childish demand of attention.

"Don't complain, Yuffie," was the only answer she got. It was unsurprising. Over the past few days all she'd gotten were uninterested and rather stern, crisp sentences out of him.

She pouted and then, upon feeling Barret stepping on one of her now sore ankles, she growled like a dangerous feline. The simmering anger, however, did not only have to do with Barret. She was also angry at Reeve and, specifically, at the lack of attention he'd been paying her since the group had been forced to split. Had she known that he was going to become a grumpy old man without Rie around, she would have made the girl stay!

Apparently unavoidable, Barret stepped on her damn ankle… AGAIN.

Feathers ruffled, the rose of wutai spun around and punched the human machinegun on one of his muscled arms. Hard. She regretted immediately for hot pain exploded on contact.

SHIT! SHIT! SHIIIIIIIIIT! What the hell was this man made of!

Cursing under her breath, the ninja whimpered as she nursed her hand. She would not be surprised if her limb got swollen, she'd probably broken her hand for shit's sake!

_Great! Way to go, Yuffie! GAWD! It feels like I just punched a friggin' brick wall! _

Barret, meanwhile, oblivious to her intentions of hurting him, just asked gruffly, "What ya' want, brat?"

Yuffie growled audibly and was about to snap back at the man, when Reeve's voice somewhat interrupted her train of thought. The ninja frowned. He'd spoken in such a hushed voice that she hadn't catch a word he'd said.

Intent on shortening the distance she'd set when she'd stop to punch Barret, she shoved her anger aside for the time being, and forced her legs to swallow down two steps at the time.

"What was that, Reeve?" she asked once she'd regained her original position, just a step behind him.

"I said that you should be care-"

Too late.

Before he'd finished his warning, Yuffie had stepped on some kind of gooey liquid and slipped. Unbalanced, she'd barreled against the closest thing… Reeve's back.

The scientist's grunt faded under the ninja's girly squeal as they tumbled down the stairs in a mess of flailing arms and legs. Her dark world spun and, for only a split second, she thought she saw the yellowish light coming off of Red XIII's tail, before it disappeared within the darkness left behind.

After a while that felt eternal, they landed on the bottom with a final smack. Slowly, as her head stopped spinning, Yuffie somewhat noticed that the floor wasn't as hard as she'd thought it would be. In fact, the floor was draped with a soft fabric that kind of smelled like Re—

"Yuffie," Reeve grunted below her.

The girl's eyes opened wide and a wave of intense heat rose to her face when she realized that she'd landed on top of the scientist.

Sore and very embarrassed, she pushed her upper body away from him. Her breathing became labored as her senses sharpened and she was able to take in his scent in combination with the way his chest rose and fell below her. In fact, she could even feel his heart beating as rapidly as hers…

Wait. What?

She could feel his heart?

More heat rose to her face when it hit her that she'd used his chest to push herself up, which therefore meant that the slight bulge she was feeling near her thighs…

She squealed but dared not move as –_was that supposed to be the voice of her firggin' conscience_?—screamed chaotic nonsense inside her head.

Yuffie was so far gone, that even with her sharpened senses –after all, she was a ninja, and the best one at that!—she did not noticed the splash of light that suddenly illuminated the scene.

"Found them," Red XIII announced with a good amount of amusement.

"Yuffie… get off," Reeve hissed, the edge on his tone indicating his mortification at having been caught in such a– Yuffie looked down and took in the situation. She was straddling the man of her dreams and, even with the tender light from Nanaki's flaming tail, she could tell he was, at least, blushing as intensely as she was.

"Oh," was all she managed to say, the full extent of their 'compromising' position settling murkily on her head.

The rest of their company surrounded them, some grinning and others, like Barret and Cloud, downright confused. Yuffie looked at them as though through an unclean window. She was in a daze, the hamster of her mind moving the wheels that prompted thinking of 'cause and consequence' like a snail.

"What the-" Cloud began, but Reeve cut him short.

"Yuffie!" he snapped, embarrassed and angry now. He shifted under her and, without any tact whatsoever, he pushed her off of him.

Not having seen that coming, she fell on her side without an ounce of elegance. Her blush deepened but her pride prompted her to glare at the tactless, idiotic man.

Reeve seemed to be training his eyes anywhere but on her. Faster and far more composed than her, he regained his feet and brushed at his clothes absentmindedly.

Yuffie slapped the floor, forgetting for an instance how good his body had felt below hers, and jumped to her feet. She gave a step towards him, fighting the urge to slap him across the face. She opened her mouth and was about to demand some well-earned respect from him, when Barret's voice interrupted.

"Well… whatddaya know! You two need some alon' time?" the man asked, laughing boisterously when he received an icy glare from Reeve and a scowl from her. He raised his hands as if to calm down a pack of hungry Behemoths, "I'm jus' sayin', s'all!"

"Enough of this nonsense! Let's keep moving," Reeve instructed coldly.

And though in any other circumstance his words would have stung her, right now she barely acknowledged them as a far more pressing issue forced its way into her thoughts.

They were not alone.

Yuffie turned her back on the group and squinted, wishing Nanaki's tail could increase in fury in order to give them more light. Still, after her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she managed to make out hints of movement.

"Nobody moves," Cloud whispered and, a glance in his direction, indicated that he too had sensed what Yuffie had.

Taking a step back, the ex-SOLDIER whispered something to Aerith and Nanaki. A movement in the darkness pressed her eyes to snap back on whoever or whatever lay in front of her. She felt her heart beating like a drum of war in preparation for what she was sure would be a battle. After all, only a hostile force would keep themselves hidden… _right_?

"Now," she heard Cloud say and, to her astonishment, the light in Nanaki's tale disappeared!

Yuffie forced her body to relax, her hands dislodging from her back her red and yellow conformer. She allowed her fingers to trace the edges and each of the five spikes, taking comfort in the fact that they were dangerously sharp and ready to deliver pain.

Sudden movement all around signaled that the enemy had decided to move in for the kill.

"Now, Aerith! Nanaki!" Cloud called and, just as his voice died, light and heat exploded from behind her.

The ninja did not even turn to see what had happened. Instead, she lunged forward, closing in on the nearest enemy. The black-clothed soldier had stopped in confusion and –by the way he was touching his silver helmet- pain when the light erupted. On the back of her mind, she guessed the helmet must have had an infrared vision which had blinded him with the combined flare produced by Aerith and Nanaki.

His pain, however, did not continue for long. In a practiced move of her arm, she'd sent her conformer flying straight into him. The circular weapon chopped the man in half, severing him from the waist and setting free a fountain of rusty blood.

"Oh GAWD, that's all?" she asked with a leering smile as another enemy, which looked identical to the one she'd defeated, came at her with sword held high.

She grabbed the weapon that flew back at her in mid-air and expertly threw it towards the other soldier. Without a cry, the man kissed the floor, both his legs missing as a pool of blood spread from below him.

The sound of bullets made her turn to her friends. Cloud was nowhere to be seen, possibly killing off enemies within the shadows, like she'd been doing. Nanaki was gone as well, but a faded light in the farthest corner of the room showed his position.

Aerith, meanwhile, was standing near the wall, her staff a fiery torch that did not permit her to cast any other spells. Barret and Reeve where on either side of her, their backs to her as they kept firing on anything and anyone that stepped into range of their weapons.

Yuffie noticed as Reeve, out of bullets, knelt to recharge as quickly as he could. A soldier, taking advantage of his vulnerability, charged towards him.

_No you don't, MISTER! _

In a flash, she was standing on his path without any thought as to her own safety.

"Don't you dare touch him!" she hissed venomously. With a vicious arch, she brought her weapon down hard, but the soldier –prepared for this- stopped it with his sword an inch away from his stoic face.

"Yu-Yuffie…" Reeve called, his voice surprised and …was that worry she heard?

The ninja had no time to linger on that last thought, as the soldier, taking advantage of her slip of concentration, moved two steps away, lowered his weapon, and fell back into his fighting stance.

Throwing everything outside the proverbial window for now, Yuffie focused all her attention… all her anger on the man who had chosen to die by crossing her. Brown eyes glaring, she twisted the now wet weapon that had never disappointed her and signaled him to come.

He did and she allowed the chaos of battle to wrap its claws around her. She would protect them –_him_ and nothing and no one would stop her.

She was Yuffie.

The Rose of Wutai.

And once again, her petals would be painted red by blood.

**-o0o-**

**Sephiroth Crescent **rolled his shoulders and stole a sidelong glance at the minx sitting quietly beside him. It had been a day and a half since they'd started their journey and now that Nibelheim was only six hours away, the small vehicle had been filled with tension.

Thus they rode in heavy silence. How long had it been since someone spoke? Three hours? Five? One?

The General seemed to have lost track of time as his own fears and reservations broke out of the cage of his heart and mind. He'd thought he'd been prepared to face this city, but his past seemed to come back to haunt him, echoes of dark laughter clawing at his sanity.

Once, he even felt the lick of the flames caressing the skin of his face which had prompted him –much to everyone's confusion—to roll the window down and let the cool air from outside hit him and wipe away that ghoulish sensation.

Damn it! He needed to keep a grip! The last he wanted was to have them worry about him when their enemies had already taken a permanent resident on their minds…

Sephiroth heaved a tired sigh and stole another look at Tifa's solemn profile. She'd propped her elbow on the windowsill and had placed her jaw on her fist. Dark eyes, the color of wine, were fixed on the rolling planes that were already wet with rain. Some were even decorated with vast puddles frozen on this Gaia-forsaken ground.

Opening a leather-gloved hand, he forced one of the materias he'd absorbed into his body to materialize on his palm. From within his vast collection he'd chosen a green, glinting comet mastered material.

Feeling her eyes upon him, he turned to her and allowed his lips to twist into a lopsided smiled.

"A materia for your thoughts," he said, offering her the beautiful stone that encompassed the power to call upon a rain of meteors.

She returned his smile in kind. To his satisfaction, it was one of her true smiles. Taking the stone, she allowed her hand to linger in his before answering, "Dragons."

He quirked an eyebrow and prompted some elaboration by echoing, "Dragons?"

Her smile widened and she took her hand back and started fidgeting with her premium hearts. After some quiet consideration, she opened up a slot by replacing a fire materia with the one he'd given her. Having done that, she refocused her attention on him.

"I was remembering the first time I encountered a Dragon," she explained, a whisper of wistfulness accompanying her words.

He was surprised at this, for he'd thought her mind had been engrossed with the painful images of her –_their_ past. Could it be that she had come to terms with it? Could it be that fear and anger had been destroyed when she'd come to accept what had happened, if indeed she had?

And if so, why could he not do it too?

After all, she was probably the one that had suffered more –if not the same—as he had. Nibelheim had devoured her just as viciously as it had him… or had it?

"It was when I'd decided to become ShinRa's native guide to Nibelheim's reactor," her words pulled him out of his questioning thoughts. Glad for the sudden break, he cleared his mind and listened as she continued unperturbed. "I knew that Dragons lurked in Mt. Nibel and that, if I was to be useful, I would have to learn to defeat them for they were bound to cross my path eventually. So, one day, I ventured into the mountain path alone. I was nervous and excited," she paused and smiled, nostalgia peeping its head again…

Sephiroth shifted slightly on his seat, his hands tightening around the steering wheel. How absurd! That smile _obviously_ had not been intended to mock his own troubled mind…! The fact that the thought had crossed his mind, however, soured his mood. But, like the professional actor he'd become, he hid this well.

"Gaia! I was a young _fool_ who thought herself unstoppable…," Tifa added with a small laugh that sounded slightly bittersweet.

Curious, the General shoved his selfish thoughts and feelings aside. "What happened then?" he asked, allowing her to hear the interest that, he was thankful, was genuine.

Behind him, he even felt their companions' awareness slowly awakening, eyes that had been previously closed now opening and focusing on their leader. Sephiroth's lips pressed together as this sunk in.

Truthfully, he felt a little jealous of the fact that this conversation was not staying only between him and her. It occurred to him, right then and there, that this was not the first time he'd felt this childish way. Every time he was forced to share Tifa, this persistent sentiment wriggled between his ribcage like a poisonous snake which, no matter how much he tried to trample it, could not be killed. Recognizing defeat, he was forced to stop his attempts at destroying it and instead contented himself by keep it in check. Thanks to years of discipline, he'd at least managed to hide it from everyone's view.

It was a shame really that he could not hide it from himself as well…

A melodramatic sigh escaped Tifa's lips, "Well… I got my ass kicked."

A pause and then…

"A dragon… kicked you in the buttocks?" Rie asked incredulous, a thing which made Tifa's laughter ring and his heart to sing at the sound of it.

"I did not mean it literally, Rie," she explained, brushing the tears brimming at the corner of her eyes. "I meant to say that it beat me."

Rie opened her mouth to say something but just then a hoard of monsters intercepted them. This time, even as Sephiroth sped, they did not move so that, in the end, not wishing to destroy the car or hurt its precious cargo, he opted to stop.

"We've got this!" Tifa chirped, climbing out of the car before anyone could stop her. As an afterthought, she peered through the back window and told Rie to go with her.

Not quite as excited, the scientist nevertheless did as told, climbing down the car through the empty space left by Vincent who –having none of it—had disregarded Tifa's orders and was already strolling towards the monsters.

Though he would never tell Tifa, Sephiroth approved of the ex-Turk's actions. Following them with his eyes, he saw as the scowling martial artist petitioning Vincent to fight the monster on their flank but to leave the rest to her and Rie. At this, Rie casted Tifa a questioning look, as though she could not believe what she'd just heard. Opening her mouth she seemed about to say something again, but lost the opportunity when a pumped up Tifa broke into a run and plunged into the mass of monsters –which were mostly Nibel wolves and dorkey faces—without an ounce of hesitation.

"Seems to me like your better half is a fearsome fighter," Genesis pointed out amused, leaning on his elbow so that he was able to see the fight through the space between the two front seats.

Having made sure that the monsters were not a real threat to his lover, Sephiroth twisted on his seat to stare at the other male fully in the face. "What are you planning, Genesis?" he asked straight to the point.

The redheaded, fully aware of what he was referring to, chuckled and –predictably- played dumb. "Whatever are you talking about?"

Sephiroth's eyes became slits, silently conveying the seriousness of his inquiry.

Genesis sighed, running one of his hands through his hair. "She's ShinRa made, you know," he said after a pause, his tone somber but beyond that, eerily unreadable.

Taken aback, his eyes jumped to the raven-haired woman. She was holding a small sword awkwardly, as though she was not used to the weight of it on her hand. Tifa was in front of her, pummeling at the pack of wolves while Rie stayed on the defensive, barely keeping jaws at bay. At some point, she tried a freezing spell, but despite the fact that her materia was mastered, it was a weak attack.

Sephiroth frowned, wondering if Genesis' information was correct. Since the start of the battle, the girl had displayed the fighting skill of a nine year old cadet. No, scratch that. If he inserted the level of their current opponents into the equation, she was a six year old cadet, fresh from a farmland.

Sephiroth frowned, "Are you sure of it?"

Genesis nodded after a pause, confirming that he might have had his doubts too at some point in time.

And who wouldn't?

Saying someone was ShinRa made came with an attached number of expectations. Him, Angel and Genesis were ShinRa made and, as such, fearsome warriors inside and outside of a battlefield. If their suspicions were correct, their newest enemies were also ShinRa made, bred on one of the many ShinRa facilities and sharpened to be a weapon.

But this woman… she displayed no skill whatsoever!

_Unless it's science related…? _He shook his head. No. Even the ambitious Hojo would never have _created_ a weapon whose only skill was her brain, especially since she could have easily become competition.

_A… faux then? A mistake?_

"She's ShinRa made," Genesis persisted with that tone that kept Sephiroth from reading further into his thoughts.

With a nod of surrender to the point, the General decided to keep the information in mind, no matter how dubious it sounded at the moment. After all, Genesis was not one to make unfounded assumptions and, if he was sure of this, then he had probably found something he was not ready to share with him yet.

Plus, wasn't this part of what _friendship_ was all about? Trusting each other, that is.

Mind made up and subject pushed aside, a cynical thought moved to the forefront of Sephiroth's brain. "Is this what your sudden interest in her is about?" he asked with suspicion that, even to him, sounded stern. The General had noticed –as had almost everyone on Cid's ship, for that matter- the _charming _way the poet had been acting around the woman lately.

To say that this did not sit well with Sephiroth would have been an understatement. And it was not so much the idea of Genesis wooing a girl what troubled him. It was the idea that he might be playing the girl what worried him. After all, the girl was one of Tifa's friends and he was sure none of the members of AVALANCHE would take lightly if one of them was being fooled around with.

Behind him, Genesis straightened in his seat. Sephiroth twisted back in his chair but adjusted the rearview mirror so that he was able to see the other man's pensive face.

Meeting his eyes through the mirror when he noticed he was being observed, the poet smiled, shrugged and responded enigmatically, "Who knows?"

Though it wasn't a straight answer, at least the General could tell it was honest. Who knows, huh? Perhaps even the poet himself was having trouble figuring this out.

Not particularly eager at the moment to delve deeper into Genesis' messy mind, Sephiroth accepted the answer for now. Unless it turned out that it affected –in one way or another- Tifa Lockhart, he was more than happy to keep out of it.

As if attracted by his thoughts, the doors opened and in climbed the three warriors. Noticing Tifa's soaked frame trembling from being under the rain and amidst the cold wind, he turned on the heater. Vincent's hands then offered her a towel which he'd taken from the trunk of the car.

Smiling, Tifa thanked him and began drying her skin, the movement distracting him in a very pleasant way. Once she'd finished, she wrapped the towel around her and snuggled into it.

Only then did she turn to him and ask, "So… you impressed?"

Sephiroth smirked, detecting the playfulness of her words. Odin, what he would do if they had been alone! He would have probably pried that stupid towel from her fingers and used the warmth of his body to bring her heat…

"Sephiroth?" she punched him lightly on the arm, ripping mercilessly at the fantasy that had rendered him silent and a tad-bit uncomfortable in the loin area.

"I always am, Tifa," he said, upon realizing that she was expecting some kind of response.

Chuckling with satisfaction, she twisted to look at Rie. With a more solemn voice that hinted at worry she addressed her, "You sure you're okay?"

Rie nodded and pulled up her jacket sleeve revealing smooth and unmarred skin, "As you can see, there is no harm done. It was simply a close encounter which I rather not repeat, if it is alright with you."

Tifa smiled apologetically and leaning back on her seat, Sephiroth heard her whisper, "Could'av sworn that wolf bit her…"

"What was that?" Sephiroth tried to encourage, curious about her comment after the short –but enlightening- conversation he'd held with Genesis.

Shaking her head, she brushed the subject aside nonchalantly, "Ah, nothin'. Just ramblin' to myself, is all."

Respecting her decision, he focused on the road ahead and continued driving. Somewhere on the back of his mind, he wondered if Tifa's good humor would drain out of her once they reached Nibelheim. As foreign as the thought was, part of him –a very small part, but it was there nonetheless—hoped it did.

Angry at himself for allowing such a sentiment to exist, he cleared his mind, concentrating only on the road ahead and latching his thoughts to the present.

_Forget about the past, damn it! _He hissed to that unwelcomed part of him that seemed to be filled with a whirlwind of negative emotions the nearer they came to their destination.

After a while, Sephiroth saw the dark smudge that was Nibelheim rising in the distance and, on cue, the tension in the car became almost palpable. The silence felt oppressive now, but none seemed to be willing to break it.

The General smirked mirthlessly upon taking in their situation. Oh, the irony of this group made him wonder if Minerva was enjoying messing with their lives. Four out the five people in the car had danced an evil tango with this place and, if the pressed lips where any indication, none –even Tifa—seemed all that thrilled to return to the dance floor.

Thus it was in this solemn silence, an hour later, that Sephiroth Crescent drove through the main entrance of the small, gray-colored town. In tune with his dark mood, the rain came down harder and the wind howled louder. It had been the nature around Nibelheim what had finally broken the silence.

Sephiroth scowled, feeling mocked by it.

Without a word, he parked on one of the many free spaces of the parking lot outside the inner city gates. Killing the engine, he spoke the first thing that came to mind, "We'll have to get wet."

"And you say I tend to state the obvious," Genesis quipped, but his cheerfulness seemed forced and Sephiroth wondered if he was thinking about the last time they'd seen each other here.

_I left him to die,_ a voice inside him reminded and, annoyed by it, he opened the door and climbed out of the cage that was the car. Closing his eyes, he allowed the rain to wash over him wishing his fear could slip away from his skin as easily as the drops of water did.

Taking their luggage out of the trunk, the small group shuffled towards the gate without a word. They all kept to themselves as they stepped inside to be greeted by the deserted streets of a city dulled by cold, rain and a ceiling of gray clouds.

The town was eerily quiet and Sephiroth didn't know whether to feel thankful or annoyed. After a minute or so, he was the first to break out of the frozen trance. He started walking towards the ShinRa mansion, leading the way even though everyone –except for Rie—were fully conscious of where the building stood.

"I'll catch up with you guys later," Tifa's voice suddenly stopped him mid-step. He turned to her just in time to see her smile before parting way with them. With a clenched heart, he watched as her gait slowed down and stopped altogether when she reached one of the houses. She placed an open palm on the door, caressing the old wood of its planks.

She then lowered her hand to the doorknob and, after a couple of minutes of what he guessed was hesitation, she twisted it. The door opened with a creak that he'd managed to catch with his sharpened senses. Without once looking back at them, she disappeared inside.

"Is she gonna be alright?" Genesis asked, his eyes glued to the small house.

Sephiroth's hand tightened around the handle of his bag as he thought of it. Though he wanted to give her privacy, his own selfish desires outweighed etiquette. "I'll wait for her, you guys carry on," he offered after a pause.

Earning no complaints, the group left him standing in the middle of an empty path. After a while, and tired of waiting there, he gave in to his curiosity and strolled towards Tifa's former house. He climbed the three steps and was about to knock on the door, when music –beautiful and sad—froze him in place.

With a frown marring his brow, he climbed back down and moved around the house, following the sound until it got loud enough for him to listen to without straining his sense of hearing too much. Intrigued, he cast a peek through the nearby window, feeling quite in tune with the midnight customer that had looked over Tifa what seemed like a lifetime ago.

Sephiroth found the ravishing brunette sitting on a bench in front of a dusty piano. "Tifa…," he whispered lovingly as his eyes drank her form, the same way he'd done when he'd first seen her play the instrument.

Eyes closed, she weaved a melody he'd never heard before. It was beautiful and sad and melancholic and –despite knowing that it was wrong of him to intrude upon this private event—he leaned back on the wall and closed his eyes. Without hesitating, he pulled down his defenses and allowed her melody to wrap around him.

He would not deny it. Sephiroth wanted nothing more than to find out what secrets Tifa was releasing with her music, even if it brought him pain.

Was it wrong of him?

Of course it was, no question about it! But Sephiroth's mind put him somewhat at ease with the oldest excuses of all…he was merely human. And so he stayed there, hidden from her, until the music stopped.

**-o0o-**

**(AN: **BTW,if anyone is interested, the song that inspired the following melody's description is called "After The Rain" and you can find and listen to it here: youtube . com / watch?v=TsoAprutKzg&feature=channel)

**Tifa Lockhart** studied impassibly the three steps that led to her door. Her legs seemed to get heavier with each one of them. Yet, she persisted in her climb.

She heaved a sigh as she stood an inch away from the old, wooden door. It was just like she remembered it, and she had to remind herself that this was but a replica of what had been her house. No, this wasn't the door she'd gone through a thousand times. This was ShinRa made, a mere reconstruction of what the fire had consumed.

Still, she couldn't help putting her hand on the door, caressing the planks and noticing every nick and scar on the wood. The detail of the replication was uncanny. How had they known where the scars should have been, anyways?

Did it matter, though?

Scars were supposed to be events frozen in time, leaving their mark behind. These, however, were meaningless scars, not made by events but by hands trying to deceit. Or were they?

Her fingers traced the longest scar. She'd done that one –or at least the _real_ one. She was nine when they'd first played hide and seek. Tifa had tried to barge into her house to hide from the kid that was trying to find her, but in her hurry and mirth, she hadn't noticed the door was closed. She'd run right at it and her bracelet –which was pretty damn dangerous, now that she thought about it—had caught on the door. The sharp edges of the decoration had left the snaking mark behind.

Freeing her mind of the memory, her fingers moved down to take a hold of the cold, iron doorknob.

_Is it locked?_ She wondered as she twisted it and pulled open the barrier with a creaking sound. Inside stood a darkened room left to wither at the hand of time and abandon.

Bracing her heart as it prepared itself to face an emotional rollercoaster, she stepped inside and mechanically she closed the door behind her, a force of habit more than anything else. Barely conscious of her next actions, she allowed the bag she was holding to slip from her weak hand and drop to the floor with a definite thud.

Her eyes, meanwhile, took in the walls, the floor, the wine-colored curtains and the arrangement of the furniture. It was precisely as she remembered it. She strolled to one of the walls, her eyes wide as she noticed that even the framed pictures were the same.

She took the one of her parent's wedding and felt a lump obstruct her throat and a painful claw clutch at her heart. With one swift move, she brushed the layer of dust away. Her parents smiled dazzling at her from below the crystal, oblivious to the gruesome fate that awaited them. A fate that had been cruel to them and which had snatched them out of the land of the living long before their due time.

Tifa's eyes stung with sudden hate.

Why was it that she had been saved so many times and her parents hadn't? Where was Minerva when her mother was moaning with the pain of her disease? Where was Gaia's Goddess when her father had been murdered by—

She stepped back and dropped the frame as though it had burnt her. The crystal broke into pieces just like her anger.

_Oh, shiva…_How had she allowed that thought to cross her mind, or even form for that matter!

Ashamed and regretful, she recovered the flimsy picture, plucking it out from within the derive littering the floor. She touched her mother's face and then her father's with a tender, trembling finger, committing them to memory with smiles to replace the last time she'd seen them –pale and unmoving…and dead.

She kissed the photograph lovingly. It smelled like old paper, but the scent did not bother her at all. Quite the contrary, it soothed a part of her that was throbbing with pain. Carefully, not wishing to maltreat the item further, she tucked it into one of the inside pockets of her long, black coat.

Next, she spun on her heels, ready to leave this place that was clearly causing her distress. But she stopped when her eyes –on their own accord—came to rest on something standing in the back of the room. Feeling the piano beckoning her forward like a magnet, she approached it with hesitant steps. The spell to strong to break, she lowered her body on the bench, not caring about the dust layering the surface of the leather cushion.

Hands shaking with storming emotions, she pulled the cover off to reveal the black and white keys of her father's grand piano. She ran her fingers across the sensitive keys, barely touching them as she drank their image, stirring –for once—some of the happier memories she'd relegated to the furthest corners of her subconscious.

"_Dad! Daaaaaaad! It's raining today!" _The excited voice of her younger self echoed around. The innocent tenor tugged at the corners of her lips, melting some of the walls of reservations she'd built around her.

She closed her eyes upon feeling the space beside her filled with the presence of her father. If she concentrated enough, she could hear the creak of the bench, smell the scent of cinnamon and spice and even feel the warmth irradiating from his lean body.

"_Let's play your song then," _her dad's voice offered from somewhere beside her. It sounded so real, that Tifa's eyes flew open and, for a moment, she thought she saw his ethereal form smiling back at her, his hands on the piano, his pencil perched on the back of his ear.

But a blink later, he was gone and there was no one else but her. Her with the buried memories that were stirring below the ground, wishing to break free of the prison she'd created for them. Anything to keep the ache of remembering what she'd lost at bay…

A soft exhalation escaped her partly opened lips. Tifa felt her eyes stinging with welling tears, lips trembling with longing.

"_Okay, you start this time, Teef," _her father's voice rang again, the voice whispering encouragements in her ear…

Damn it! It sounded so fucking real!

For once not over thinking things, Tifa placed her hands on the keys, muscle memory clawing its way to the forefront of her mind. She struck the first key, the sound long and piercing –a light amidst the darkness of her past.

She hesitated, her fingers feeling clumsy as they loomed above the keys, wavering with uncertainty, not knowing which one she had to press next. For some reason, she didn't want to mess this up.

"_Come on. You can do it!" _Her dad's voice whispered again, his breath crashing against her skin, warming her cheek. It was a caress that she knew could only be created by a gust of wind coming in…

And yet… What if he –some _part_ of him was still here? What if it was him and not the wind? Was it so wrong of her to believe in something like this? Had she not earned at least some level of respite from this town!

Biting her lower lip, she frowned, suddenly sick of her hesitation, her fright and her disbelief! She was Tifa Lockhart! She was daddy's girl and it was time she showed him someone to be proud of!

Her increasing resolution gave way for reflection she'd gravely been missing. Having kept Nibelheim out of her thoughts, Tifa had unmistakably also kept her mom and dad out! It was this, more than anything, what finally pushed her fat, salty tears to stream down her cheeks.

No more. No more. No more! She would keep them out no more!

"Look at me, Dad," she croaked with fierce determination lighting her eyes, blazing in her tone. "Hear me play the song you made for me… and smile."

Straightening her back, Tifa felt a wave of strength flooding her, dancing with the pain of having lost someone important, but not being overpowered by it. It was a balance that felt… right. Her lids closed, knowing that her fingers would find the right keys now that her heart was committed to the task.

"_Go on…you can do it, Teef."_

The sound of the rain from outside filled the room, breaking what would have otherwise been lonely silence. Then her fingers moved, pressing keys slowly and the sound of rain, it simply disappeared. Her body fell in tune with the melody she'd thought she'd forever lost, and she swayed in her seat back and forth, moving in symphony with the way the music came _alive_.

She paused, listening to his words.

"_That's it… you've got it." _A praise spoken with the fierce pride of a father. Her chest swelled and she smiled, tears streaming down her face like crystalline rivers. The song turned ever so slightly faster in pace, and Tifa found herself holding her breath, mindful of her timing.

"_Here it comes…"_

She paused and pain bloomed in her heart like a red rose surrounded by cold snow.

_Shit… _

No, the moment she was waiting for could come no more… How could it? Her father was not there anymore to carry on the melody, to steal it from her fingers like he'd done countless of times before. The duet had come to its end the day his last breath had been stolen from him...

"_You can do it, Teef." _His voice rose again from somewhere beside her –_or was it inside her?_ She accepted it for what it was, an encouragement beyond the planes that separated them.

Exhaling softly, she placed the hands she'd retreated back on the keys. With the tenderness of a loving daughter, she carried on the tune and, with it, _his_ _legacy_. Almost immediately a tingling sensation took a hold of her fingers and she realized that she wasn't alone anymore, she never was.

In this vulnerable moment, two hands were playing, pressing the same set of keys. The sound of it was even sweeter than she'd remembered…

"You've always been here, haven't you?" she said with a smile, and she felt him caressing her heart, where he'd been waiting all this time.

She laughed. It came out not bitter or happy, just… freeing. In her heart she could feel the familiar nostalgia and melancholy and something else, something which resembled happiness. The song paved way for a dance between two unlikely partners, laughter and tears.

And suddenly the pain was slipping away, her heart opening to let go of it once and for all. The weight on her shoulders, the one that she'd gotten so used to it that she'd forgotten it was there, lifted and disappeared and…

Tifa Lockhart breathed in a new air. Pure and warm and filling.

She cried amidst laughter, feeling the warm embrace of the music -_their_ music hugging her. Her fingers danced upon the keys, her heart soaring, her eyes aching, her throat dry as she moved into the last part. Her fingers slowed down, the tempo softer. As she finished, she heard him one last time, his presence lingering in an echo of a distant past.

"_That's m'girl!" _

The music ended as the sound, with one distant echo, ceased to exist until only the rain outside and the choked sobs tearing away from her throat continued to carry on the melody. Opening her eyes, she realized with a smile, that the pain was truly gone. She could still feel the kiss of nostalgia, yes, but the painful feeling of betrayal, the fright of coming back… in sum, the powers Nibelheim exerted on her… they were gone…

"I release you too," she whispered, embracing her new freedom and the lightness that came with it. A serene smiled descending upon her lips. She stood up and moved away, grabbing her bag from where she'd left it on the floor. Opening the door, she spared one last look at the place, before stepping out and into the downpour.

_Goodbye…_

As she made her way to ShinRa's manor, Tifa Lockhart allowed the tears of the sky to wash away the vestiges of her old self, relishing in the strength born from forgiveness.

A couple of steps later, she noticed a figure standing on her path. She drank in his wet form, and noticed the closed expression on his face, unreadable and paler than usual. For a split second, she wondered if something was wrong, but then he allowed her to see a glimpse of worry in his lifestream eyes and she knew he was still him. He was still her dark knight, the one-winged angel that had chosen to share his life with her.

In silence, she graced him with a smile and breached the space that separated them, for he had not moved an inch from where he stood. Surprise made his eyes widened slightly when she took his arm and hugged it to her chest lovingly.

Had he expected her to act coldly towards him because of Nibelheim? Well if that was true, then she would just have to show him that she'd moved on!

Thus, stirring him in the proper direction, she pulled him with her in a stroll towards the dark manor that stood in the distance, away from the clutter of small houses.

"Perhaps my worry was unfounded," she heard him say after a while, his tone soft, his words proving how much he cared for her.

Tifa smiled, her heart racing, and she moved one of her hands down his arm, intertwining her fingers with his. She felt him squeeze her hand and move in even closer to her, so that her body molded to his powerful flank.

Meeting his eyes, Tifa finally confided what she's just came to realize with blinding certainty, "It will be alright, Sephiroth… we'll be alright."

**To be Continued…**


	28. Striving, Surviving

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any of its characters. I am just burrowing them for a while.

**Author's notes: **I'm very proud of this chapter. It took a while for me to write it and get the emotions I wanted to portray right. I hope you guys enjoy it!

**Quick thanks to logged-on readers: **_Sephiroth Owa13, Midnight Marquis, Gismo1, Goopy Sentimentalist, LunaNyx, Command76, CNome _and_ Kick-It-Aus Style-Mal's_.

**Special thanks: **_To those who sent me messages in DA for my birthday! _

**Typos pointed out by**: _Ex Oxide._

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"_The moment you close your eyes on the battlefield is the moment you never open them again."_

_-Snake, Metal Gear Solid-_

"**One Winged Angels"**

By: FenixPhoenix

**Chapter 28: "Striving, Surviving"**

* * *

**Cloud Strife **killed the fifth solider with significantly more effort than the ones he'd dispatched before. It occurred to him, as he was given an unexpected but not unappreciated break, that the soldiers attacking him seemed… mindless and yet not so.

On one hand, they did not scream or curse or even grunt. Even when his sword had detached the arm of one of them, the man's mouth had remained clamped, his face stripped of any and every emotion. Their ability level also puzzled him. They were fast, he granted them that, but they wielded their weapons with only basic skill.

On the other hand, Cloud had found that by the time he'd engaged his third opponent, his enemies seemed to have learned something from their comrades' battles. So that when he fought the last solider, he'd managed to fare much better than the first attacker had.

The sudden and quiet appearance of a new adversary snapped him out of his musings. Cloud's blue mako eyes narrowed. Even within the obscurity he'd ran into, he managed to make out a lithe and small figure which, though unimpressive at first glance, seemed not puny either.

"Who are you?" Cloud asked when he felt his Jenova cells stirring with vague recognition. _So another Jenova user…? _

The strange man –_boy?—_said nothing as he unhooked two weapons from where they'd been hanging from his belt. Gray eyes alight with mako zeroed on him and Cloud found himself reassessing him. Swiftly, he began recalling the information AVALANCHE had gathered in an effort to answer his own question, given the fact that his opponent didn't seemed inclined to enlighten him in that area.

_Short and slim, but athletic. A Jenova user who wields two scythe-like weapons with an attached chain… kumas…kamas or something like that?_ His hand tightened around his broadsword and, automatically, his breath hitched a beat when he noticed the boy's knees bending in preparation for a fight_._

"_He was young." _he heard Vincent's distant, smooth voice saying. It rose inside his mind, plucked from his memories as he recalled him sharing the story of the battle in Cosmo Canyon._ "Oriel. He looks merely like a boy, but he is not to be underestimated. He is certainly skillful with his weapons but his most dangerous attribute is—" _

_He's fast! _Cloud's own mind finished the statement, taken aback when the boy lunged at him at high-speed. He seemed to glide through the air, as if propelled by an unforeseen storm that sent him almost barreling into him –had he not moved out of his path at the last instance.

Balancing only on his toes, Cloud's eyes scanned his surroundings, trying to make out the midget from within the darkness in which he'd melted. He found himself holding his breath, straining his senses and trying to understand what the Jenova cells in his body were saying. Unfortunately, Cloud had never stopped to figure out how to make use of the alien cells. So for him they merely acted as an alarm that signal a Jenova holder was near, and not a tracking device –which he'd learned later, much to his chagrin, that Genesis and Sephiroth knew how to use.

The Jenova cells –or what was left of them after he'd cleaned the poisonous bits in the lifestream—stirred and shook inside of him. Allowing sheer reflex to guide his actions, Cloud jumped to the side when he felt the boy coming straight as an arrow and just as dangerous. Hitting the floor with his shoulder, Cloud swiftly moved to a roll and ended up, uninjured, on his feet again.

Orienting himself, he spread his arms a little, senses open, muscles tensed.

_Oriel_… That was the name of the boy and yes, Vincent had not exaggerated when he'd insisted he was a fast little bastard…

A shuffle of fabric behind him and then, "You are tainted." His voice announced from somewhere behind him. Idly, Cloud noted with a chill how even though the tone was stoic it still sounded innocently childish.

The whispering shuffling became louder and Cloud twisted his body and brought his sword up, horizontally, in time to stop the two kamas that would had otherwise pierced his back. He was face to face with the child, whose eyes, though hostile, seemed completely empty. Cloud shuddered slightly at what he saw –or rather the lack of it.

Nothing. There was no emotion. No passion. No anger. No reason. Not even a hint of humanity in the gray pools of his eyes…

The warriors parted, both jumping back and eyeing the other critically, carefully. Cloud felt part of him wishing to ask why he was doing this, why he was fighting, but the other part just wanted to finish him off and join his companions. Truthfully, he was worried about Aerith and immediately found himself regretting having allowed her to accompany them instead of staying with Cid and Shera on the ship.

"Mother wants you dead," the boy stated laconically, rolling his shoulders twice before advancing menacingly towards him again.

He slashed at him with one of the kamas and Cloud spun aside, his arm avoiding the sharp edge of the crescent blade by a millisecond. He was seriously starting to get annoyed with the other's speed. Not even Sephiroth would have been able to match him, he was sure!

"Mother wants her dead too," the boy added over the sound of their blades colliding in a rhythmic symphony of steel. "Where is she?"

Cloud's eyes became slits as he pinned the boy with a glare but said nothing. For a second the idea that he was talking about Aerith entered his mind, but his rational part shoved away his emotions and seized his head. No. Not Aerith. She was here after all. If the boy wanted her dead, he would have targeted her already.

_Tifa, then?_ A voice inside his head reasoned, making his heart clench with anger just as strong and fierce as when he'd thought Aerith was in danger. It surprised him that within that anger he could detect possessiveness too, but the boy's biting attacks kept him from lingering too long on that.

As he tried to rapidly regain his bearing, Cloud realized that he was unsure whether he felt glad or worried that Tifa wasn't here.

_She's in good hands. Vincent's there,_ he reminded the part of him that hinted at retreating in order to go and find his friend. Deliberately, he left both Genesis and Sephiroth out of the equation. Though he trusted Tifa's judgment, part of him –scratch that, _most_ of him still held a grudge against Sephiroth and he was simply waiting for him to snap again. Not that he needed or wanted that to happened, Gaia knew he had enough on his plate as it was…

_There_, his mind screamed with triumph as, having dragged on the waltz, Oriel had opened himself after one of his attacks. It was only for a split second, but it was enough for him to step forward and slash upwards, his blade neatly sliding into the skin of his upper right arm.

Oriel moved back, eyes slightly wider yet still devoid of pain or recognition. He clutched at his wounded arm more out of instinct than necessity. His gray eyes turned to look at the wound impassively, as if his mind had not yet caught up to what was happening.

"Hmmm… Raphael will not be pleased," the boy mused. Then he tilted his head and spared an unreadable look at something or _someone_ past his shoulder. Cloud didn't have to turn around to find out what he was looking at, the sudden wave of heat was enough indication of where the rest of his group was huddled.

Somewhere along the way, their attacks had landed them within closer distance to his allies and Cloud, again, found himself debating whether this was to his advantage or not.

Feeling the powerful urge –born from concern about Aerith he was sure- to reclaim Oriel's attention, he spoke, "Who is Raphael?" As he said this, he pulled with measured movements –so as to not prompt a hostile reaction yet- a thinner, smaller and lighter blade from the carcass of his main one.

He moved his arm up in an arc to behead the Solider that came at him from one of his flanks. The body of the soldier gave two more steps before it fell to the floor lifeless. Cloud didn't even bat an eye, nor did he break the staring contest he'd initiated with the dangerous Oriel. The boy's eyes, on the other hand, did stray for a second to watch the dark-clad solider crumble to the floor. But nothing was revealed in those gray pools which, uninterested, had locked with his again afterwards.

"Who is Raphael?" Cloud asked again. A pause. Nothing. He changed tactics, "What are you after, Oriel?"

The boy tilted his head at what Cloud could only guess was the mention of his name. The swordsman had aimed for just such a reaction. At least the boy still maintained some kind of individuality when referring to himself, which meant that maybe, just _maybe_ he would be able to extract some information from him.

"Raphael said she will fix me," Oriel answered, rolling his shoulders –as if testing them- and then, with superior speed than he'd shown before -which Cloud, truth be told, had been unprepared for- he came at him. Sheer reflex made Cloud veer, causing one of the kamas to slide across the outside of his naked arm instead of across his neck.

Quickly getting over his shock, the swordsman spun with the borrowed momentum. With the skill honed during his last fight with Sephiroth, he brought the lighter sword –which he had not returned to his buster sword—down in an arc, slicing at the boy's flank, just below the ribs, as he passed him by. Immediately, the boy countered so that Cloud found himself dancing the waltz of silver in a place of cold shadows.

"You said she will fix you," Cloud said with a huff, gritting his teeth and pushing the boy aside when their blades met for the fifth time. In the back of his mind, he had been mulling over his words. _She. _Jenova? Tifa? One of the other Jenova-cells holders? "Who is _she_?"

The boy stopped mid-step and tilted his head to the side, as if confused by the question. Though he wanted to know, Cloud did not wish to allow the opportunity to get a hit in slip by. Lunging forward, he struck Oriel square on the face with the hilt of his buster sword.

Despite the sound of battle all around, he was able to hear something crunching sickly and knew he'd at least broken the boy's nose. Blood poured out of his orifice in a torrent, covering his face under a crimson mask. Clearly disoriented, the boy staggered backward, holding his face and shaking his head, probably fighting the white and black spots in his vision. It still awed Cloud to see his face pale but showing no sign of being in pain.

What the hell was this boy made of? Could he not feel pain? Was his mind so… _destroyed_ that something so vital, so intimately part of every human survival instinct was missing? How was this even possible to begin with?

"Mother will fix me," he said with a strange voice, for he was now holding his nose in a vain attempt to keep his blood from flowing. Idly, he spat blood mixed with phlegm on the floor at his feet. Then, silver eyes locked on blue and he added, "You need to die. Now."

Oriel flew forward, no gravity to pull him down as he pretty much glided through the air towards him. Cloud brought his sword up, barely keeping the twin fucking kamas from ripping at his damn face.

He felt his irritation increase with the newfound knowledge of the boy's lack of pain. Shit! How was he supposed to defeat an opponent that was mindless of the damage he sustained?

Out of nowhere something collided with his flank and, having been unable to disengage from the boy in time, he ended up sprawled on the floor next to something furry. It took him a second and a couple of blinks to identify said furry thing as Nanaki's cussing form.

A quick scan registered rusty blood oozing out from various wounds in the tiger's flank and some of the long hair of his messy mane was blackened and charred. None too gently, Cloud pushed Nanaki off of him and out of the way of a sudden airborne attack, curtsey of the bloody kid. Crouching between them, Oriel regarded them both silently, perhaps wondering who to attack first.

"Mother wants you to die as well," he said to Nanaki, crossing his kamas and, by the direction in which he was now facing, making a decision. "She will be needing your cells."

_So… Jenova then? Is she the one that will fix you, Oriel?_ Cloud wondered, annoyed by how his own mind allowed itself to get entangled so easily. Moving to the boy's side, he next tried to determine what angle would cause the most damage to Oriel, choosing to leave the complex plot for another time.

Somewhere to his right Nanaki opened his eye and slowly rose to his feet. Even with the darkness, Cloud could see he was disoriented and, as such, vulnerable to an attack. So Cloud made his move. He sprinted forward and slashed, causing the boy to back further away from his friend and, thus, bought him some needed time.

"Nanaki, you alright?" He asked, positioning his body between their opponent and the tiger.

"Been better…," he grumbled, shaking his head, "But watch your flank, Cloud. The witch is somewhere around here too," Nanaki growled, golden eyes scanning the area while his nose tried to pick the other woman's smell –if the loud sniff he gave was any indication.

"The witch?" the swordsman asked, shoulders tensing at the idea of another individual –strong enough to knock down the powerful tiger—joining, (_uninvited_, might he add) the party.

In answer, a sudden gust of wind whipped them. Cloud crossed his swords, guarding himself as much as he could against the sharp icicles flying his way. Nanaki, quicker than him, had been able to jump for cover behind one of the nearby shelves.

Cloud's jaw tightened as his skin broke here and there. It wasn't precisely the most painful thing he'd ever felt –he had been pierced by Sephiroth's long sword once, after all—but it was definitely far from pleasant, in some places more than others.

The icy wind died and Cloud was grateful as he lowered his sore, cut and now bleeding arms to look at the newcomer, Nanaki's tail providing enough light for a better physical evaluation.

"That witch, huh," Cloud stated dryly as the tiger approached. The brunette woman walked towards the kid he'd been fighting, moving her hips more than was necessary so that her skirt opened up on the side to reveal a shapely leg.

With almost caring movements, she brought her hand to Oriel's face and recited something fast under her breath. Her hand glowed green and when she retreated it, the boy's nose had stopped bleeding and the bone –which had been unmistakably crushed—was somewhat repaired, allowing him to at least breath again.

"Seems our target's not here," the woman pointed out, a tingle of annoyance wrapped in her voice. She turned a smoldering look at Cloud and he felt an alarm going off in his head. She was dangerous but, despite that, he could not help thinking that she was also attractive.

Disgusted with the thought, he shook his head and scowled. He went down into a semi-crouch, quickly replacing his lighter blade with a bigger and thicker one. Two against two. At least it was going to be a fair fight, number wise.

"They need to die," Oriel stated stoically, pointing one of his kamas in their direction.

Cloud just cracked his neck and did his best to ignore the throbbing on his arms, which were still decorated with bits of icy shafts he had been unable to pluck, some of which –he was sure—had ripped through muscle and were grazing his bones.

Before them, Oriel's knees bent as well, quick to match Cloud's stand. They stared at one another in silence, both more than ready to meet each other halfway and retake the dance they'd started. Yet a thunderous explosion somewhere on the opposite side of the room distracted the whole group.

"Oriel, come. Let _it_ deal with them," the woman ordered. When Oriel ignored her, she placed a long-nailed hand on the boy's shoulder and squeezed in warning, her eyes taking on a stern look that allowed no arguments.

Obediently, Oriel finally nodded. And before either Cloud or Nanaki could stop them, a wing had sprung out from each of their backs and, wrapping it around their bodies like a protective cocoon, they disappeared in a flutter of black and amber feathers.

Another explosion shook the room, followed closely by Reeve's and Aerith's voices screaming Yuffie's name. The urgency of the combined tones pulled Cloud and Nanaki out of their brief stupor. Exchanging a curt nod, they made their way towards the place where a new battle was already taking place.

**-o0o-**

**Vincent Valentine **followed Genesis and Rie silently up the steely stairs and then through the dirty, solitary path. The manor rose at the end of the tunnel-like passage. No wonder no one had been able to hear him scream when Hojo had finished with him…

Shaking the painful memories out of his mind if not his heart, he trudged on. If Genesis –for Rie was busy admiring the outside of the manor- noticed the slight wavering of his step when he'd been assaulted by his past, he ignored it and Vincent was reluctantly grateful for it.

Finally they reached the dark, cold place he'd never been able to consider his home despite the fact that he'd dwelled there for more than he'd cared to admit. Pushing the rusty gate open, Genesis led the way. They filed inside, automatically following the cracked and worn cobble-stone path that led to the manor's double-door entrance.

The temperature seemed to drop as they stepped inside. Valentine wondered if he was imagining it. He was about to ask Rie about it, but thought better of it when he remembered that Genesis was there too. Vincent was definitely not ready to show weakness –or any indication of it- in front of this ex-SOLDIER, who had yet to gain his trust to begin with.

Hell, this man –he could tell from miles away—was _trouble_. Inside of him, Chaos growled in agreement. Funny how this was one of the few things in which he'd managed to agree with the monster that was held as much a prisoner in his body as Vincent sometimes felt himself.

"Marble entwined with gold and silver," Rie was quick to point out how elegant the place was, rubbing her hand on one of the outer pillars that framed the door. Though her tone was matter-of-fact, her eyes roved with curiosity and childish wonder. It made the gunslinger smile, forgetting for a moment the torments he'd woken to in this place.

"Where to?" asked Genesis, crossing his arms once he reached the stairwell that led to the second floor. More anxious than he cared to admit, he walked past the nonchalant SOLDIER and led the way up the stairs and to the right.

He knew this cursed place by memory. It was so ingrained in his mind, in fact, that even if he were to close his eyes, he would still have been able to move around without disrupting any of the dust-layered –_surprisingly un-rotten_, he noted- furniture.

The room they found themselves in was mostly empty, except for a table, an uncomfortable-looking chair (the furniture in here, Vincent had reckoned, had been chosen with décor over comfort) and a couple of shelves filled with uninteresting literature (he'd once tried to read some of it to kill time, only to find that most volumes were in a different language to begin with!).

Crossing this room, he opened the next door on the right and walked inside. This room had three shelves on the far end, a bed, a side table and a vanity. The dim light from two windows made the room –if possible- feel even duller than the one they'd just left.

"Dead end," Rie pointed out as she ventured inside past his form. With noticeable curiosity she inspected the small bedroom. A flask was sitting idly atop the wooden, richly carved, vanity near the window. She picked it up and studied the green content with intrigue.

"It's better if you leave that, Rie," Vincent warned, not keen on having her taste the liquid, which seemed to have been her plan for she'd pulled the cork and had been about to introduce her finger in it. Genesis, sharing his thoughts, had stopped her before she'd done it and, gently, he'd taken the vial away and placed it back on the table.

Satisfied, if not very comfortable with the distance that now separated his two companions –or rather, the lack thereof, Vincent approached the far wall. It was the only one that had no pastel-colored wallpaper. Instead, it sported big, cement bricks of a dull gray color and, instead of being straight, was curving outward. Bringing his human hand to touch upon the left part of its surface, he felt for the small switch that would open the door. He found it and, pressing the brick slowly, the door slid open to the right with a rumbling sound.

Rie was quick to move towards the open door but instead of going through, she peered at the place Vincent had touched. The gunslinger fought the smug smirk that Chaos was prompting when realizing Rie was closer to him now than to the other male.

Across from him, however, Genesis –to his mild suspicion—did smirk but said nothing as he approached them, stopping just in front of the open door. Cold, moist air caressed them and, beside him, Rie did not suppress a shudder.

"The underground passage is filled with wild creatures. Be on your guard," Vincent warned, unholstering perdition from where he's strapped it to his leg, and descending the stairs carefully.

"Creatures, you said? …What sort of creatures are we to expect exactly?" Rie asked, following him at a slower pace, her voice betraying the fact that his words might have scared her more than they would any other of his group.

Genesis brought up the rear and, moving closer to her, said charmingly, "Don't worry. I'll protect you."

Vincent ignored that –_him, _but made sure Rie had her weapon out of its scabbard. The girl was clutching it furiously and he was reminded of how she'd looked when he'd hoisted her up into his arms and took to the skies.

"Relax, Rie," he said, noticing the slight trembling of her arms and the quick darting of her eyes, "the creatures are weak. They should not be a problem."

The scientist flinched slightly at his words and was quick to confide, "I only know the basics of battle… the lab has always kept me busy. Plus, hurting and being hurt does not appeal to me in the slightest."

As if to mock her statement, three humanoid, green lizards with brown scaly armor plunged from up above to bar their way, a lance in their three-fingered hands. To his slight amusement –he was careful not to let it slip, however, else she should be offended- Rie screamed, having been caught off guard, and almost mechanically casted a quick fire spell that, much to her visual disappointment, the lizard avoided with ease.

Pushing Rie behind his body, Genesis casted a much stronger, and way more accurate, fire spell, killing the closest lizards, which had been just about to impale her. Vincent dispatched another one with a single bullet straight to the head. _Bull's eye._ He was about to move to the next one, but Genesis stopped him.

"We've finished ours opponents. Now finish yours," he instructed Rie sternly. And whether it was because they were in a dark cavern or because she was expected to fight on her own, the female seemed more reluctant to follow the order than she had been when she'd fought alongside Tifa and himself.

Chaos growled dangerously and Vincent, in sync with the creature, couldn't help stating, "That is not necessary."

"It is," Genesis countered coldly, unsympathetically. And people said Turks were heartless… And yet, Vincent eyebrows quirked in understanding once the ex-SOLDIER deigned to explain to her, "One day you'll have no one around to help you and then what will you do?"

Rie gulped and her expression tightened marginally. Her muscles tensed beyond her control, her knuckles turning white as her fingers clutched around the hilt of her short sword. Then, somewhat resolute, she nodded –perhaps not with passion, but at least with understanding- and, bracing herself, she stepped forward.

The lizard, which had been eyeing them carefully and unsure up until that moment, immediately zeroed on her. Without hesitation, it launched itself into an attack. The fight lasted longer than it should have, with Rie immediately falling into defensive stands instead of offensive. She would have dragged it longer too, had Genesis not started barking instructions which, to Vincent's surprise, she followed successfully –if a little clumsy and not very gracefully. In the end, she'd slashed at the lizard's throat just as he'd thrown its lance at her, which she had avoided with unnatural reflexes.

When it was over, Rie bended forward, hands on her knees and breathing disrupted by shallow pants. Vincent did not know the real reason for Genesis' decision –for he was sure there was more to it than simple Samaritan actions—but what he did find out was interesting enough in and of itself. Rie might be awfully terrible at an offensive approach, but her body moved fluidly on the defensive, avoiding getting hurt with an ease that belied her uselessness in wise.

"So… born to survive?" Genesis whispered to himself, unaware that Chaos was able to sharpened Vincent's hearing.

So he was right. There was much more to Genesis' actions that he'd let on. Frowning, Valentine next pondered upon the SOLDIER's words, trying to guess what his musings meant. Before he could do so for more than a couple of seconds, however, Rie interrupted his thoughts.

"Vincent Valentine," she called with something akin to mild annoyance clearly present in her voice. It seemed to him that she was fast learning to understand and successfully use her emotions, "You said they would not be a problem!"

This time, hard as he tried, Vincent couldn't help the smirk that stole into his face, "I had not taken into consideration your skill level, Rie. I apologize."

In response, Rie made use of one of the few expressions she knew the meaning of… she scowled.

**-o0o-**

**Barret Wallace **grimaced not so much at the destruction around him, but at his precarious situation. Dark worried eyes finally took time to inspect the girl wriggling and moaning weakly in his arms.

_Damn_ she looked so fuckin' vulnerable and… jus'… jus' s'very _wrong_. This wasn't the brat he was used to dealing with. The girl who seemed to annoy her opponents so much, she came out mostly unscratched out of every and any battle!

"Yuffie…_fuck_," he murmured as worry reached the point where it prompted irritation. Vainly, he attempted again to pry the arm that was holding the other away in order to better evaluate the damage. But the _damn_ brat jus' growled at'im and he sighed, raisin' his human hand in defeat and further irritation.

"Are you guys okay?" he heard Aerith asking as she approach them, moving through the wreckage around them carefully, else a false move would send her toppling down some of the newly made holes in the ground. The tip of her staff was still aflame, a torch within the cold darkness outside of the destroyed ShinRa building.

_Fuck, we didn't even get no damn info! _He growled under his breath and told no one in particular, "This ain't over yet."

"Barret?" Aerith knelt beside him, peering at him with concern.

"Shit, I'm fine but Yuffie 'ere…," he let his words hanging, motioning to the panting girl that he'd propped up on his machingun. It had been such a chaotic fight against that damn Titan –_fuck, who would'av known summons could become s'damn annoying!-_ that he hadn't realized how bad her wounds were when he'd dragged her out of the way of the falling ceiling. Shit! The earth summon certainly knew how to go out with a blast…

Of course, even as he'd done that, Barret's entire back had knotted with worry and stress. He'd closed his eyes, cursing the fact that Marlene would be all alone, certain that they wouldn't make it… and then, he'd open his eyes and he'd looked around them incredulously.

By some miracle, the space they were crouching on had stood its ground, creating a small heaven within the groaning building that had sunk to the ground. It even reminded him of Tifa's bar, a gem within the slums of Midgar…

In that small bubble surrounded by rubble, Barret had somehow been able to eventually dig them out. It had been a slow and tiring process, since pushing in the wrong place might'ave brought everything down on them. Never in his life had he been more thankful for the damn years of workin' on the mines of Corel, back before he'd lost his arm, lost Dyne –or supposedly so- to ShinRa's shooting forces, swore a vendetta against the company and created the insurgent group that later saved the world.

Aerith, face covered in soot, leaned forward and tried to peer at Yuffie's arm, but the woman just balled into herself further, obstructing her view. "Yuffie, let me see…," she begged tenderly, but the ninja fought her attempts.

Barret grimaced when Aerith pulled a little stronger and they were able to, briefly, see how her arm was twisted in an angle that was jus'… _wrong. _The fuckin' Titan had made a number on her. The image of how he'd plucked her from the ground as if she'd been nothing but a blade of grass assaulted his mind. He'd tried to get to her –so had everyone else—but by the time Nanaki had forced the summon to release her, Yuffie had passed out with the pain.

"I think her arm might be broken in more than one place," Aerith informed with worry, casting a healing spell more for the sake of easing some of the girl's pain than to actually heal her. After all, bones could, unfortunately, not be mended by magic alone.

"Everyone else? Spy man? Tiger? Chocobo-head…?" Barret prompted, wondering why she was so calm when Cloud –and everyone else for that matter- were nowhere in sight.

"Cloud and Reeve were helping Nanaki out back there," she pointed to where she'd come. "He said he was alright, just trapped. I told them I would search for you guys while they were at it."

As if on cue, Cloud's voice called –worry and urgency making his tone tremble slightly. Had Barret not know the guy as much as he did, he wouldn't have even caught it, "Aerith! Where are you?"

Aerith raised her staff, sending a small flame up for them to see, "I'm here! I found them! They are…," she spared a glance at Yuffie, hesitating, "I found them."

As soon as they came into view, Reeve hurried towards them. He knelt, worry all over his features as he noticed how still Yuffie –normally so damn hyperactive- was in his arms.

"Yuffie," he called with surprising tenderness. Though part of him felt like teasing the scientist, Barret was too worried to do so. Instead he uncoiled his arms more, almost offering the girl for Reeve's inspection. "Yuffie," he called again, taking her in his arms. Yuffie, half-unconscious, allowed herself to be moved and seemed to even settled more comfortably in Reeve's slimmer musculature.

With morbid interest, Barret watched as Reeve took hold of Yuffie's unharmed arm and, slowly and tenderly, pulled it away. And the brat allowed him to do so with only slight protest echoed in her moan.

"Fuck, that don't look too good," Barret blurted out unthinkingly.

"Yes, thank you for stating the obvious," Reeve hissed a little more hostile than was necessary.

Just then Cloud finished fidgeting with his radio and it came on instantly. Cid's cursing voice made itself present, his worry –often hidden within his callous anger—was strangely comforting to hear.

"What the fuck happened? Don't you know how to do goddamn research! Shit-heads, why'd you go around fuckin' destroyin' the damn buildin'! And whyd'ya turn the fuckin' radio off! Wait! Never mind, I'm comin' to get ya!

Barret allowed himself to let go of his stress by laughing boisterously. He was relieved beyond measure. He was going to be able to see Marlene and Denzel and Teef again and Gaia was he grateful!

"Ah, fuckin' pilot... he knows nothin'… nothin' at all…"

**-o0o-**

**Sephiroth Crescent **slipped carefully from between Tifa's arms. He did it slowly and with measured movements, not wishing to wake her when it was clear she'd been in need of some well earned respite. Once free, he continued sitting there, looking at her calm features with admiration, not devoid of a hint of selfish jealousy.

For what felt like the fiftieth time, he wondered how she'd done it. How had she gotten over Nibelheim and what had happened here –what _he'd _done here. As incoherent as it was, though, he was also glad. Better to have only one of them unable to let go of this place than to have them both trapped.

He sighed, massaging his temples idly. He turned sideways to the window. It was still dark, and though he was not keen to face the cold outside, he needed to get out of here. He needed to… to clear his head and the manor was not helping, he was suffocating within its walls.

He switched his attention back to Tifa's peaceful face. He watched her for a moment longer, losing himself in the way her chest raised and fell, how her eyes moved under her eyelids, how her lips seemed ravishingly beautiful as wisps of air escaped them.

Unable to control himself, he leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers. It was a feathered kiss for he still did not wish to wake her, yet it served to satisfy some of his need for her. It was strange -and a little alarming even, he accepted- how much he had come to simply _need _her. No longer was it just a wish to be with her, but it had truly evolved into a need wherein he was sure his life would have no meaning without her.

And undeserving as he was for her, he could not –_would_ not let her go. He was beyond that point, in too deep over his head that the only way anyone would have been able to separate them was if he was killed. And even then, he would still fight Minerva and Gaia itself to stay in the same plane of existence as her –even if it meant eternal damnation to an existence trapped on limbo.

Bending down, he reached for his boots and pulled them on. Then he slowly rose to his feet, untwisting and smoothing the fabric of his dark clothes. Strolling at leisure towards the door, he retrieved his masamune from where he'd propped it against the wall. Softly, he opened the door and stepped outside. With only a short backward glance, he closed the door and sighed.

Looking around, he inspected his surroundings, unconsciously searching for his companions –or rather, one of them in specific. Yet, Genesis was not nearby, he would have been able to pick his battle aura by now otherwise.

Oddly disappointed, he chose to leave the manor rather than to check on the basement library. He'd already been holed up in there for the last two days until Tifa had convinced him to get some sleep with her. Apart from him, the one who had stayed in there the longest had been Rie, who had seemed far more interested than any of them, in reading all the volumes the shelves held.

So far he had finished reading all the material the first shelf provided. Genesis had also finished his and had moved on to another one. Vincent was almost finished with his while Tifa was still in her first –mid-way through it. Sephiroth smiled at that thought. She really was a lousy reader.

Rie, for her part, was already on her third but Sephiroth wondered if she had been getting any sleep. He knew she took short naps because he'd once caught her sleeping in her chair, a book opened on her lap, but he doubted she had actually made use of any of the beds the multiple rooms provided.

As he reached the end of the stairs, he moved towards the entrance and pushed the door open. It creaked when it moved and Sephiroth found himself holding his breath, hoping the sound had not been loud enough to wake his sleeping beauty –as Genesis had chosen to deem her.

When no other noise assaulted the quiet atmosphere, Sephiroth sighed tiredly and stepped outside, closing the door behind him and rolling his eyes when the door creaked again. _Usless, _he thought irritably.

For a while he just strolled around the solitary town. Everyone was in with a few exceptions, people too drunk to realize how cold it was outside. Before long, however, he found himself walking in the direction of Mount Nibel. His lips pressed into a grim line when he reached the foot of the mountain. To the side, he could see the place where Zack, himself and Tifa had taken a picture.

Sephiroth allowed his mind to dwell upon that particular memory. Even though she had meant nothing to him then, he found that he could still recall with perfect clarity what she'd been wearing. A tiny, brown skirt, brown boots reaching mid-calf, a cotton white shirt, an open brown vest and a matching cowgirl hat. He smirked. With her wardrobe choice, Tifa had certainly earned an appreciative look from every SOLDIER he'd brought with him –Zack and himself being no exception.

He even remember wondering for a split second about her, fantasizing –because yes, even he had had his share of fantasies—what it would be like to hold her, taste her, claim her. But as the professional SOLDIER he'd been, he had been quick to shove all those thoughts away and to control the hormones her body had pertinently awakened.

Yes. Even then, when Tifa has crossed his mind for the first time, he had been reluctant to let her go. Instead, he had stored the memory away and only now realized that it had always been there, tucked in a vault so secret that even he had, for a while, forgotten about it.

Shaking his head and reaching a decision, he commenced the ascent to the mountaintop. This was where it had all begun and perhaps that was why he needed to come here. Maybe if he faced the place where he'd felt his sanity start to slip away, he would be able to retain it now, if not forget that he'd once lost it?

Pretty soon, Sephiroth found that he was never happier than now by the fact that Gaia was so filled with monsters. They seemed, currently, to cross his path much more often than usual as he continued on his trek and it somewhat helped ease his jittery nerves. Physical exhaustion was much better than mental anguish after all.

It was not until he reached a certain spot that he froze with recognition. He felt beads of sweat, cold and vexing, sliding down his skin, through the middle of his chest and down to his abs. His mouth dried, his eyes narrowed a fraction and the hold he had on his weapon tightened with tension and... yes, this was pain. It had to be!

He closed his eyes. Against his innermost wishes, he found himself becoming knotted with inconsistencies. He wanted to forget this place thus he was resolved to remember it. He wanted to not feel pain, thus he was tempted to relieve his sins. He wanted redemption and forgiveness and thus he was seeking, calling his inner demons forward.

For though he could not remembered with as much clarity as he could remember the old, brown-clothed Tifa, he wanted to see the face of that man who had tried to stop him. He wanted to remember his expression at least and, as incredible as it was, he wanted to feel remorse about what he'd done to him. Because as unimportant as he had been during that time, he was incredibly important to him now. Even if he was merely a broken memory, a ghost trapped in his Nibelheim, Sephiroth had entwined his life with his that moment he'd set his heart, mind and soul on Tifa.

His beautiful but scarred survivor of an Angel.

And yet, hard as he tried, as much as he willed it to, the face of the man he'd murdered was a blur. It could have been anyone, really. But was this really that surprising? He hadn't been thinking straight by the time he'd reached this point. The man had come at him, screaming and angry and demanding that he stopped. Jenova had bristled at the intrusion and had ordered him to destroy everything that was keeping him from her. And thus, when the man had tried to stop him, Sephiroth had quickly and efficiently, barely sparing him a glance, did as told.

"Like a pathetic little puppet," he spat with disgust, hating how that particular truth tasted as it rolled off his tongue.

Slowly, he turned to face the direction where the man had come from, fixing his luminescent eyes on the spot that was lightened by the full moon up above. He barely recalled his words, his voice sounding faraway. Sephiroth leveled Masamune, imagining the blurred-face man coming at him and, in the last instance, he pushed the blade forward. In reality he was slicing the empty air but in his mind he pierced again that chest that had heaved with anger or fear –no, _maybe_ _courage_?

"Damn it," he muttered darkly, pulling his weapon down and staring at where he'd imagined the body would have laid sprawled if only he'd cared to look. But he hadn't. He had not even retrieved his sword, turning to leave long before the man had assimilated his death and had crumbled to the ground.

"And I left him like that for you to find," he whispered sadly, anger boiling just underneath the surface of his control, ready to turn him into a destructive tornado once he reached the reactor. Shaking his head and the memories encroached therein, he continued forward more determined than before. If he had caused such pain then it was only deserving that he felt it, wasn't it? Better late than never at the very least…

In the back of his mind, however, he wondered if this was going to earn him the respite he so desperately felt the need to find. Or was this merely going to increase his heartache and add to the punishment he truly felt he deserved?

He fought his way up, killing two black dragons with ease. By the time he reached the foot of the reactor, where the seventy stairs waited to be climbed, he was already starting to feel exhausted. For a while he just stood there, eyeing the silvery building warily, almost expectant to hear the cold voice of Jenova again. But the voice remained absent and Sephiroth was relieved in that respect.

Squaring his shoulders he began his ascent, the black hole of an entrance coming closer and closer as he kept moving, legs wavering here and there but never changing his direction or stopping treacherously. At least he was in as much control as to not be deterred by his increasing fright.

Ruthlessly, the first thing that assaulted his mind was the image of Tifa. Sephiroth moved towards the stairs barely conscious of his actions, his agitation increasing as the memory became vividly real, sharply detailed. He could even hear her boots, the small heel clanking loudly as she came at him from behind, his sword held tightly by her small hands. She looked much like a child wielding a weapon unfit for her, much too big, too heavy, too dangerous to belong to such a fragile-looking woman.

Sephiroth turned back when he reached the stair he had been standing on when Tifa had attacked. Though much of that time was muddy in his mind, this particular memory was intact and smooth and clear. He remembered turning much like he was doing now and glaring at those eyes. And he remembered, even while being whispered nonsense by Jenova, how her eyes had blazed with anger and power and beauty.

The ex-SOLDIER, lost in the memory, reached out to a blade that was not there. Yes. He'd taken the sword in his hand, disarming her with an almost laughable ease, and then he'd pulled the weapon up and brought it down in a slashing arc. After so many years, Sephiroth found himself mimicking the motion, bringing his masamune down to slash –again—at empty air. Only in that day, the space had not been empty. Tifa had been there and he'd slashed her across the chest.

He saw her eyes widened, her body crumbling backward, rolling and rolling as she went down the stairs. He heard the smashing of her body, the sound of skin and fabric meeting the steely and cold floor. Hell, Sephiroth could even now smell her blood, the memory overpowering him to the point that he thought –for a tense moment—he'd done it again.

But then the memory dispelled and he grimaced at the feeling, the tightness of his heart and the pain produced. Odin, he had almost lost her. He had almost lost her to his own damn hand!

His breath was shallow by now and his head throbbed after being immersed in such a disturbing memory. He placed a gloved hand on his face, hiding it from view and laughed mirthlessly at himself. He laughed because something was holding his heart, crushing it painfully and uncomfortably. He laughed because he was hurting and he didn't know what else to do. He laughed because, though he knew the natural course of action was to cry, he couldn't do it.

He had never learned how. Or perhaps he did and had forgotten? _Shit_… crying was never a requirement in SOLIDER. Was it something that he was supposed to learn instinctively or had he missed that class somewhere along the way?

"I'm sorry, Tifa," he whispered, no longer laughing. In his mind flashed now a more recent memory. It was the memory of the night before they'd set out on their journey to this cursed, unforgiving place.

Tifa had pulled him towards her and her lips had found his and… he'd simply given himself to the moment. He had lost it. He had plunged into the warmth that was her, her arms, her body pressed against his, her lips tasting, nibbling, teasing his. One thing had led to the other and she'd tugged at his clothes, un-strapping his coat and tossing it away. She stared unabashedly and appreciatively at his half-naked body. Sephiroth had felt pleased but also slightly nervous, like he always felt when under her scrupulous look. But her smile had been a boom to his ego and he'd followed in her actions.

Before long, he'd tugged and finally pulled her shirt off too. But when he'd drank her skin in, he'd frozen, unprepared for what he'd found. The scar his sword –_he _had left glared at him from its protrusion across her chest. It was a clean line, darker than her normal skin, and he knew that had he pushed a bit harder, he would have killed her back then.

So Sephiroth had hugged her then and there, unable to continue as guilt, dark and oppressive, filled him to the brim. If Tifa understood his actions, she gave no indication, but she hugged him back just as fiercely nonetheless. Only later had she reassured him that they would be alright, and he'd taken her words to heart.

A sudden presence made himself known and, pulling his hand away –now glad that tears had not made it past the wounds of his heart—he pointed masamune's sharp edge at one of the shadowy corners.

"How long have you been there?" he asked drily, none too happy to have been caught in his own personal hell.

Genesis stepped out of the shadows, his face just as grim and hard and cold as his probably was. But in his blue eyes, perhaps mirroring his, there was also pain. But his was a different pain. His was the pain of betrayal… and, inevitably, no matter what they'd thought or said in the past, he knew that they still had an unresolved issue.

For it was them, after all, what had in the end caused each other's downfall.

"My friend, the fates are cruel. There are no dreams, no honor remains. The arrow has left the bow of the goddess. My soul, corrupted by vengeance. Hath endured torment, to find the end of the journey. In my own salvation…," Genesis recited cryptically.

Falling into their old routine, Sephiroth heard himself finish the verse he'd so fittingly chosen as a greeting, "And your eternal slumber."

From the end of the stairs, Genesis faced him silently. Then, he saw his eyes flashed with anger and hurt and knew the confrontation he'd been waiting and dreading had finally come. "You left me to die," he said icily, it was a declaration and a reminder, an accusation and a quest for answers.

Sephiroth nodded. No use in denying it. But Genesis had also crippled him during that time and he didn't feel like letting that detail slip. "And you stripped me of my sanity."

He saw him coming and, instead of waiting for him, like he was used to doing whenever they'd practice, Sephiroth lunged forward, sword in hand, and met the attack halfway. The metal-coated central room of the reactor boomed with the sound of steel against steel.

Inevitable was a confrontation that fate had demanded. And as the danced carried on, Sephiroth wondered if Minerva was watching. Or did she even care? Look and listen, for two of her angels were roaring in pain…

**To be continued…**

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**AN:** I will try to get Oriel's picture drawn so that you guys can better know what he looks like. Also, please don't forget to **review** and let me know what you think of the story so far. I am trying to rush it a bit more so that I might finish it soon.


	29. Unresolved Issues

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any of its characters. I am just burrowing them for a while.

**Author's notes: **There are always some chapters harder to write than others, be that because the author is not satisfied with an action scene or an emotional one or because something just doesn't fit _quite_ right. I have to admit that this has been the hardest chapter to write thus far. Not particularly because of its complexity (I've had more complex ones) but because, I fear, my muse had been tap-dancing in my head (here one moment and gone the next). All in all, I finally finished the chapter and I apologize for how long it took me. I probably re-wrote the first and last scenes at least four times and that only served to stretch your waiting. Still, hope you all enjoy it!

**Quick thanks to logged-on readers: **Sephiroth Owa13, LoveableDimples16, Midnight Marquis, adxlunam _and_ Command76.

**Special thanks to: **Sephiroth Owa13 for the lovely icon which I am now using as my new avy!

**Typos pointed out by**: _Ex Oxide._

**~Enjoy** and don't forget to **review**!

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"_The defects and faults of the mind are like wounds for the body, after all imaginable care has been taken to heal them up, still there will be a scar left behind."_

_-Francoise D.-_

"**One Winged Angels"**

By: FenixPhoenix

**Chapter 29: "Unresolved Issues"**

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**Vincent Valentine** stared stoically at the dark, moist ceiling of the underground room he was presently in. He placed his tensed arms by each of his sides as his brow became marked with the intensity of his reflections.

It had been a very strange conversation the one he'd established not so long ago with Rhapsodos. Planning to plunge into the recollection, he closed his eyes but immediately opened them again, suddenly wondering whether it had been the brightest choice to ponder upon his feelings when lying in the coffin where Hojo had left him to wallow in a deep but troubled slumber.

Pushing himself into a sitting position, he sighed. Crimson eyes wearily settled on the heavy lid that Cloud and company had pushed aside –prompted by nothing but curiosity- when they'd found him what felt like only a few days ago. Unknown to them at the time, they had not only set him free, but his demons too, demons that now gnawed at his mind as they felt his confusion pulling them out of their sleep. Against his wishes and his power, all his inner demons were now sharing his increasing irritation, and he was well aware of the danger this could bring. Unfortunately, there was little he could do about it, which was also why he was presently alone.

Vincent Valentine did not wish to harm someone if the restless demons–especially the mighty Chaos—were to slip out of his fragile control. Never mind that that said entity would probably be better at wiping Genesis' smug smile, Vincent was not too keen on handing his body over to someone or rather, _something_ else if he could help it.

His ghoulish thoughts were soon pulling the ex-SOLDIER back to the forefront of his mind. The memory that was slowly taking precedence over his thoughts –discarding all fears of his distant past, his scary present or his probable future (if he made it out alive, that is)—played inside his head.

_*Vincent Valentine had return from hunting. His demons had been so restless lately, that he'd been forced to transform more often than he was ready to admit. As the heavy door of the mansion closed behind him, he took note of someone standing at the end of the flight of stairs. _

_Genesis Rhaspodos was leaning on the railing, reading a book that had nothing to do with the research they were supposed to be doing. Aware that he could not avoid him, Vincent began to climb the stairs. As he was halfway up, Genesis' blue eyes switched from the book he'd been engrossed with to him. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that Vincent was tired, but the gunslinger couldn't help feeling irritated by the other man's silent and solemn staring. _

"_Did you have a good hunt?" Genesis asked finally, just as Vincent was passing him by. His previous stoicism broke with a small smile that further fueled the gunslinger's precaution. Inside him Chaos growled dangerously, but Vincent managed to rein him back before he could break through the barrier separating them. After methodically counting up to ten in order to calm him down, he contented himself with nodding curtly in response._

"_That's good to hear," the former SOLDIER announced, closing the book titled LOVELESS and loosely folding his arms across his chest. "The lovely Rie was rather worried about you for a while. She said your pallor was looking more colorless than usual."_

_Vincent quirked an elegant eyebrow, wondering why the man had brought the subject of the scientist so abruptly into the conversation. Normally, they had refrained from talking about her and, at least in his opinion, that had worked marvelously well in keeping unnecessary tension between them at bay. _

_What are you playing at, SOLDIER? He wanted to ask, but kept silent, waiting for the other man to state his real business as the pause stretched. Genesis, however, did not speak another word. It seemed to him that maybe he'd underestimated him. And though his pride was demanding that he kept his mouth shut, his other part, in sync with all his demonic counterparts, wished to uncovered what was going on. _

_Well, if Genesis was discarding __subtility__, then he might as well do the same thing. No use in beating around the bush if he wanted this conversation to remain as short as possible. _

"_Put your games aside and speak your mind, Rhapsodos," Vincent warned, allowing his lack of trust to be sensed by how he'd referred to him. His friends he called by their first name, those he was unsure of by their last. It was a habit he'd picked up from the Turks and he'd never been able to shake it off. _

_Genesis smiled with unhidden amusement. He leaned his long body even more against the railing, countering his cold words by showing he was not intimidated by the tone, his relaxed muscles a clear testament of this. Vincent's dislike for him came down a notch and his respect increased begrudgingly. _

"_Games? Ah, but I am merely commenting upon something that had to do with you. Nothing more nothing less," he said innocently. _

_Vincent did not believe him in the slightest. Crossing his arms, he leaned his weight onto his left foot, "Am I to believe you are perhaps… jealous?" The gunslinger kicked himself mentally when he realized that he'd just walked into Genesis' trap –if the widened grin and twinkling of his eyes was any indication. With someone like Genesis, this was as close as it could get to a victory dance. _

"_Ah, jealously," the man sighed theatrically. "You know… you and me Vincent… we could not be more different. Perhaps you have not thought of it thoroughly, but you are gravely mistaken if you think we hold the same sentiments for our socially inept but deeply esteemed lady."_

_There was confidence in his words which kept Vincent firmly in place, his curiosity building up by the second. To his great disappointment, he found that, hard as he tried, Genesis' cryptic words could not be received in his signature silence. How could they, when they seemed to imply something about him that eluded Vincent and his normally sharp mind. _

_Not really finding any other way, the gunslinger willingly took the bait this time. With politeness that brushed with mocking cordiality -he was not about to be a hypocrite about the fact that the man annoyed him—he responded with a simple, "Enlighten me, then."_

_Genesis' cocky smirk caused him to narrow his eyes with mistrust. He was quick to hide this imperceptible change behind a stoic mask, and he could only hope the other male had not noticed the slip. And though all he wanted was to set Chaos free and allow him to chew the obnoxious poet's head off, that aggravating curiosity acting like a leech on his mind rendered his emotional impulses harmless. _

"_Well you see… whereas what you hold for Rie are innocent sentiment –most of them possessive, yes, but leaning towards the parental-kind. Mine are of a less 'pure' nature." His smirk accentuated but his eyes remained quite somber, hinting at the fact that he was no longer playing. "Oh, what is that look for?" He chuckled softly, almost to himself, "Come, Valentine, do not get me wrong. My word choice to describe my feelings is not meant to imply that they are not passionate, real or positive… I…I care about her." _

_Genesis turned even more thoughtful as his explanation progressed. The hawk gaze that had been trained on him since his arrival, finally tore to rest instead on one of the windows. Blue eyes looked but did not see the looming piece of protruding rock that was Mount Nibel. Vincent could tell that Genesis' own words –his discovery, maybe?—had drawn him into introspection. _

_The pause lengthened and just as the gunslinger was about to leave, thinking the conversation was over, Genesis spoke again, "Vincent… I do not see you as a rival because while you see Rie as a child to be protected," blue eyes locked with his blood ones and Vincent saw no doubt in those mako orbs as he proceeded to make his next confession, "I see her as a woman to be loved." _

_Vincent Valentine knew he should be feeling the furious need to refute him, to correct him and yet… he wasn't. He couldn't. His lips pressed together into a grim and thoughtful line as his head wrapped around his words. For a while he just stood there, perfectly still, trying to at least decipher what it was that was keeping him from speaking. _

_Sometime later –could have been minutes or hours, Vincent was not sure- he was able to snap out of his stupor and walk away. He left the SOLDIER to his silent musings without a word of parting or an acknowledging glance. He left slowly, making it a point to show that he wasn't fleeing from this…conversation? Truth? Man? He did not know… However, much to his annoyance, Vincent did managed to detect how his feet fell upon the wooden floor with a tad-bit more force than normal and concluded that the much sought after rest was not to be attained anytime soon. _

He scoffed as the memory broke away and he was left to deal with the present. With eyebrows tilted down more pronouncedly, he absentmindedly felt hands close tightly, painfully on the dusty edges of his coffin.

_Damn it!_ Why had he come here?

When the trance that had prompted him to wander aimlessly through the manor broke, Vincent found himself here… in this room. It was the same cursed room where he'd spent a lifetime of years deep in slumber. The room where his mind had dwelled on nightmares and where, after defeating Sephi—Jenova, he'd come back in search of … of what? For what! Pain…? Forgiveness…? Release…?

Well, whatever it was, it had also been in here that he'd eventually managed to accept that the man he had once been was gone…dead…killed… and that perhaps, hard as it had been for him to admit, it had not been as bad a thing as he'd originally supposed.

Like he'd done countless of times before, though, it was in this room where he now pondered about his emotions, trying to classify them as he prodded them carefully, studying them minutely. It was here where he ultimately found himself trying to determine who he was, what he was feeling and what the people around him meant to him.

Most importantly, it was here were he asked himself for the tenth time why he had he been unable to speak. Had he lost his voice in the wake of his own emotions? Or was it due to the fact that Genesis had bared naked his?

In the end, the only thing for certain was that the gunslinger's mind was as much of a mess as his wind-whirling emotions. Was Genesis –that smug bastard- correct? Had the man notice with ease something that, hard as he'd thought about it, Vincent had been unable to identify? Did these feelings he had for Rie -strong and persistent as they unmistakable felt- were truly not what he'd assumed they were? Was this wish to protect her, to be with her not born out of… out of… well, _love_? And if they weren't, then what were they? What could they possibly mean? Did this mean he was lonely, maybe? Was the wish to be with someone born out of the fear of being left alone, with no one to accept him for the monster he'd become? Or… or… what?

"…_you see Rie as a child to be protected," _Genesis' voice echoed in his head, making his lips press together more tightly.

In vain, he tried to recall one time when the idea of kissing Rie had flashed through his mind. But he couldn't. There was nothing of the sort there. The closest thing had been a sense of comfort which was born out of her acceptance of him. And the possessiveness he'd felt? Did it come from him or from Chaos? After all, demons were selfish and possessive and Chaos could have taken a liking to her simply because she did not fear him...

"_I see her as a woman to be loved," _the poet's voice echoed again, the tone warmer. _Love_… What a strange and abstract concept it had proven to be. Had he ever felt love? Had he ever been _in_ love?

_Lucrecia¸ _he heard a voice answer without hesitation. A wave of pain washed over him, making his head tilt downwards, his body bent forward, his bangs obscuring part of his face. Yes. That was right. He'd loved Lucrecia. There was no doubt in his mind that his current condition had been brought about by love.

"Lucrecia," his voice whispered, the utterance being unmercifully ripped out of his very throat, leaving an ache behind that throbbed with every shaky breath he took. Yes. She had been a constant ghost in his mind. Her smile had plagued him day and night, and her eyes –those beautiful, glinting emeralds- had had the power to either freeze him in place or set him on fire.

Yes. There was no lingering doubt in both his heart and mind. Vincent had loved her. Odin, he'd loved her so much! _Love_. Warm, fuzzy, passionate and oh, so cruel. Vincent Valentine had lived for it and died for it. And in its place, a broken creature was left behind. One that wished to be loved but that perhaps –no matter how much he wanted to think otherwise- was incapable of loving anymore.

He smiled bitterly, bringing his hands close to his face, inspecting them morbidly. Half human half something else. A tin man with five souls, stitched back together into a mockery of life. Inside him, he thought he could even hear his demons howling in pain when the unwelcomed sentiment settled of his broken, beating heart…

**-o0o-**

**Tifa Lockhart **stood not within darkness, as it was often the case whenever she found herself awake within her dreams, but amidst soft and empty light. There was nothing here but whiteness and yet, she felt just as intimidated and wary of her surroundings. No. That was not right. She felt even more suspicious since this was _new_. Unlike this, the darkness, though unwelcome, was familiar. This, on the other hand, she did not know how to handle.

Truth was, she had more than once welcomed change, hell, she'd even embraced it! But she had never _ever_ been good at it. She bit her lower lip, muscles tensing in anticipation with something between eagerness and dread.

Slowly, she spun in place, taking in the blinding whiteness that seemed to wrap around her. It was a vice getting tighter around her mid section as each second tickled back. She felt her breathing becoming labored, coming out from partly opened lips as her lungs worked twice as hard to gather air.

_Holy!_ Where was she? What was she to do now? Who was she to find, if indeed there was _anyone_ to be found? Because if there was another thing she failed miserably at was at being alone. Solitude had an easy way of making her feel lost and… _forgotten_. How could she be sure of being alive if no one was around her to remind her of that fact? Who would be there to assure her that, at least in someone's mind, she was there, whole and strong and _existing_…

Her hands fisted, freshly-cut nails still somehow managing to dig into her skin. She thought of walking, of testing if she had at least control over that, but her feet were uncooperative as was part of her mind. A part that reminded her that change was not always good and that, if she started walking, she might get lost in it…in _this_. In a cage that was white and unfamiliar but still very much a cage, oppressive and unwanted.

And how could she not feel like this? It had not been that long ago when, even if for a while, she had felt completely lost after Cloud had left that first time, when his geostigma had forced him to run away from her and their little, makeshift family, her only comfort after her mismatched one (AVALANCHE) disbanded.

Her knees suddenly buckled under her weight and she wobbled dangerously on uncertain feet. She felt something strong rising within her, making her limbs tremble beyond control. She knew what it was, she had tasted it and succumbed it to. It had kept her from going to sleep just as many times as it had kept her from wanting to wake up to.

It was fear. Cold and dark and slowly rising. It was a hand of trepidation what gripped her heart and made everything seemed suddenly so bleak. It was what made that next breath just so much harder on her tightened lungs.

"Do not fear, chosen of Gaia," a voice suddenly penetrated through the colorless atmosphere, painting a line of blue and gold in front of her. The streak of colors had shaken slightly with the voice's rumbling tone –almost as if the vocals were a messy paint brush, painting some purpose into the blank canvas that was her world.

And then she was alive again and that cold, ugly fear was pushed away and kept at bay by the welcomed realization. _She_ _existed_. By addressing her, someone had reminded her of something that everyone took for granted. She was a breathing, living woman. Not forgotten or deserted. Still _existing _in someone's mind and heart, for hers was sometimes too weak to be able to assure her of that fact.

She tried to say something, but managed only a dry, guttural sound. Shaking her head in silent reproach, Tifa forced saliva into her mouth, trying to quench some of the dryness that permeated her throat. A thin, sheen of sweat was by now covering her brow, some of the thick beads already rolling down her temples and the curves of her cheeks. She breathed in more slowly, her irregular heartbeat settling only a tiny bit, before _figuratively_ striding forward by testing her voice again.

"Who are you?" She asked and her eyebrows raised in surprise as her own voice brushed color into the canvas. Hers, though, were dark wine and peach lines shaking much more violently, so that for the second those colors had shown, it looked as if she'd painted the spiky terrain of Mt. Nibel.

Baby blue ripples appeared in silent answer. The circles expanded and got lost somewhere to her right. Curiosity made her turn to face the spot, carefulness made her give one step back. As the ripples got bigger, the center –the genesis of their birth—opened up, as if someone had broken through the white space with a pebble.

A grand, old but elegant figure soon emerged. Though his pale face was lined with age and his long hair and equally long beard and mustache were snowy white, it did not diminish the strength that his robed body held. No. If anything, it increased her sense of awe as, holding a long golden staff and with coral robes swirling around him, he marched towards her with a purpose.

Tifa recognized him immediately, blue eyes dotted with golden spots zeroing on her, holding her spiritually in place. He wasn't smiling, his face if anything looked as stern as when she'd seen him answering Barret's summons. Yet, she felt oddly at ease, though part of her still kept her guard up. Summons always arrived in the middle of trouble, after all. In fact, recently they had even become the center of it. Both her town and bar bore the marks of their silent rage and destructive powers.

The old, wise guardian stopped a mere meter away from her undaunted. His little, fierce eyes were intent on hers, his robes and hair moving around as if the hands of wind had decided to only grace him with their touch. Tifa, on the other hand, could not have been more forgotten by that part of nature, as her hair remained still and the only thing that moved was her own sweat rolling down her hardened skin.

"Ramuh," she gasped, her voice a greeting and a prayer at the same time. She knew it was unnecessary, but part of her simply wanted to break the pause. She was never good with silence either.

"Tifa Lockhart, chosen of Gaia," he said simply, whether that was a greeting or a request for assurance, Tifa was at a complete loss. Wishing to tread on the careful side, however, she nodded dumbly. And though he was more welcomed than the white solitude she'd been forced upon, she couldn't help but feel her suspicion suddenly rise. The arms that had been hanging by her sides, folded across her chest tightly. She couldn't help but feel as though she needed to defend her heart from whatever was coming, because surely it could only be her insides –heart or mind- the ones that were in immediate danger.

And why should she not feel like this? Before now, the only entity –that was not conceived by her mind- that had invaded her had been Jenova. And this figure, standing before her, was not a figment of her imagination, she was sure of it! No. He felt solidly real –or as solid as one of Gaia's guardians could feel even if everything else felt ethereal.

"What do you… Why are you…," Tifa bit her lower lip, struggling to come up with a way to voice the thousand of questions without sounding… well, _rude_. Holy, _this_ warrior, he just looked so elegant and intimidating! She felt as though she was committing a sin simply by being in his presence without a battle raging nearby.

Summons rarely paid any heed to anyone outside of those they were called to destroy, not even the ones who'd called them from wherever it was they lingered in. So how could she be expected to be anything but nervous, especially when she was at the receiving end of a look that seemed to study her very soul, stripping her walls down until she felt all her secrets were out in the open, exposed to his scrupulous examination!

The guardian shifted his weight slightly, and the movement caused her to refocus the attention she'd switch to introspection back on him, on the present. She noticed then how waves of power emanated out of him like smoke from a fire, caressing her with an electric shock that, surprisingly, felt somewhat comforting. It was not quite a caress but it wasn't a push either.

"What am I doing here?" she finally asked, opting instead to switch the main focus of her question to herself, therefore avoiding any breech in cordiality her clumsy words might cause.

Ramuh said nothing for a while, his eyes sizing her up. Suppose he was comparing her to other warriors? Suppose he saw what part of her had always seen, that she was undeserving. Suppose he realized what part of her already knew. That somewhere along the line, as inconceivable as it might be, Minerva had made a mistake and a responsibility too big for her had been dumped on her shoulders. A responsibility that she was ill prepared for, no matter how many warriors came to her aid.

"Tifa…," he called and the color of his voice wrapped around her, hugging her with such gentleness that she felt tears brimming in her eyes. Damn! How was it that this apparition could produce fear one minute and complete comfort the next?

His stern gaze soften on the edges just a tiny bit, but the change –far from putting her at ease—made something inside her tightened even more. She could feel it. A change was coming and she knew, before he spoke, that she would not like it. That she was _unqualified_ for it.

"What is it?" she asked with an edge to her voice that wavered between fear and plain irritation. Why was it that every time things seemed fine, every time things seemed to finally go her way… something or someone came to burst her bubble! Could they not be given some breathing time? Must everything always feel so… hard?

"I have come to lend my aid of my own volition. However, I fear that what I have to offer might become as much an advantage as a disadvantage, depending on how you decide to take my gift," he pronounced, his tone somber but a tingle of tenderness did not go unnoticed –or unappreciated—by Tifa.

Squaring her shoulders and bracing herself, she chose not to run away. Ignorance was bliss, she knew, but not when it could put the people she loved at risk. There was much she was willing to give, much she was willing to put on the line –her life included—but never them. Never would she willingly allow something or someone to break them or their happiness, not even Minerva herself…not if she could help it.

"Any help you can provide will be appreciated," she decided, forcing out one of her smiles. It was a smile that radiated resignation and hope, one that was grateful but that still held the undertone of reservation.

Ramuh only nodded, before his voice, more solid and stronger, painted with various shades of blues amidst golden hues, a morbid prophecy, "Rising within a group of cards, a force will call upon brave stars. A prayer whispering upon great deuce, will cause tears shed for those who're doomed.

"And when a cry of pierced hope echoes with dismay, a shadow would be swiftly prompted to betray. As doubt, pain and double play, shall bring about the judgment day.

"Until alone with company in a darken sea, the duce will call upon the three. Lives surrendered onto thee, how that will play we can't foresee."

She listened to his words with a sense of dread as they echoed loudly around her. Her body shook as her mind registered more than one word she wished she could ignore with all her heart. A multitude of questions rapidly rolled to the tip of her tongue, balancing precariously as she tried to force them into a coherent flow. But before she could open her mouth to address at least the most dire, Ramuh closed his eyes and then, and only then, did nature took notice of her.

A strong, not very caring, gust of wind pushed her back until she was, not falling, but gliding upwards. Up and up she went, her eyes closing with the force of the push, hands of wind digging painfully into the small of her back and then… she opened her eyes to solid and cold reality.

She sighed, listening to her labored breathing, feeling her sweaty brow marked with a frown. She felt her missing energies slowly crawling back into her shaking frame, allowing her to sit up and grab her now aching head.

"A dream," she said without conviction, wishing she could pretend it had only been that and nothing more. Wishing she could ignore that the words doomed, cry, betrayal and surrendering of lives weren't part of her future and, subsequently, her friend's future.

She closed her eyes tightly, not ready to deal with what those words –especially one in particular—implied. But her cursed mind was enthralled by it, and her imagination unmercifully took flight as she was reminded of what everyone had had to deal with. Of how almost everyone had been broken, in one way or another, by that damn _word… _thatdamn_ deed_! Odin be merciful upon them!

"And when a cry pierces hope and echoes with dismay, a shadow will be swiftly prompted to _betray_," she whispered, repeating just some of the words that had turned her blood to ice.

Betrayal. It was cold and damning and so very real. It hurt more than death itself because it slay not at the body but at the soul, at the hope, at the trust. Had they not had their fair share of that, though? Must they again succumb to its bloody paws? Betrayal. It was everywhere, bumps marking scars left behind not only in their bodies but in their psyches too. How many of them had been broken by it? How different would their lives had been had they'd been spared its darkness?

Hell, it had all started with it! It had all started when ShinRa had betrayed their own people, their own SOLIDERs…

Tifa's gaze roamed around the room just as that last word popped into her mind. She was alone, no one to keep her company, no one to share her latest nightmare with. Her frown became more pronounced as she gazed outside the nearby window. It was early, though grey clouds cluttered the sky, she could still make out the sun about to rise in the distance. So, where was her SOLIDER then? Did he perchance decide to retreat to his research…?

Just as that question formed in her head, though, she dismissed it. It was strange but she knew, simply knew that he was not in the manor with her. A tightening on her heart and she felt something in her stomach twist and turn with dread and nervousness.

"They're suffering," she said, not knowing where that had come from but realizing that it was true nonetheless. She knew it. She could feel it in her own soul. They were crying and they… they needed her. Her SOLDIERs were in pain.

Suddenly she did not _exist_ anymore. All that was troubling her, all that was weighting her down was thrown out the proverbial window. Tifa ceased to be but, unlike before, she was not afraid of this. When her friends were concerned, when they were suffering or in pain, only they existed in her world, nothing else, nothing more.

Some would call that bravery, perhaps. But to Tifa this reaction was simply _her_. This is what she did, this is what made her feel at ease. She would give it all up, she would give her very life up, if it meant they would be spared any pain.

Jumping out of bed with newfound resolution, she pulled on her boots and, without even grabbing her coat, she left. She left the room, the prophecy and the manor and, without a pause or hesitation, she made her way to the place that had almost taken her life twice. And she did it with only them in her troubled mind.

**-o0o-**

**Genesis Rhapsodos** sidestepped before the ridiculously sharp edge of masamune could behead him. By the measured force behind the blow, though, he doubted Sephiroth held the intention of hurting him… well, hurting him _much _at the very least.

Steel on steel created a war symphony they were both too familiar with. More than half of their lives they'd spent fighting one war or another, though, the fiercest wars they'd always waged against themselves, as was now the case.

Waltzing professionally around each other, the poet soon realized that, at least presently, Sephiroth had relinquished his rational side and was allowing his emotions some control of his actions. This was the first time Genesis had seen him like this and he did not know what to make of it. Sephiroth was, at the moment, welcoming enough insanity to give voice to his silent rage without forsaking enough clearance of mind to pull back if things got too out of hand. The last thought, he was reluctant to admit, was the only thing keeping fear at bay.

Though he'd initiated the conflict, Genesis was still not entirely sure why he'd gone and decided to confront the other SOLDIER now of all times! Unfortunately for him, he had done so and there was nothing he could do to change this. Truth be told, Genesis had naively believed that he'd managed to move on from here, from what this place… this man had done to him. And, for a moment, he might have. When he'd first decided to climb Mount Nibel and roam inside the old ShinRa reactor, it had been out of simple curiosity. He wanted to know if this place could still hurt him, if it would still pull at some of his emotional strings if he were to walk into its steely stomach.

For a while, and to his pleasant surprise, nothing had happened. He'd lingered for a good thirty minutes, not quite comfortable but not appalled either, feeling absolutely nothing of the anger or hurt he'd expected. Naturally, he'd felt proud of the fact that he was strong enough to face this place head on. And yet, just as he'd been about to leave, he'd felt the other SOLDIER approaching and, without really knowing why, he'd found himself glued to the ground, hidden in the darkest corners, not daring to make a sound that would expose his hiding place.

From his position amidst shadows he'd watched Sephiroth carefully, noticing with interest how his eyes got lost as his mind left the present to plunge instead into one of his many recollections. He'd watched as he recreated something that was happening in his head, and Genesis felt the unmistakable sensation that he was intruding in something very personal. But humans are morbid creatures and he was merely human. And thus, he'd stayed and watched as the man slashed at someone who was not there anymore. The sudden action, tense and fast, had caused an unbefitting grimace to steal into Sephiroth's normally blank face and his verdant orbs had then filled with pain so strong, Genesis felt something in his own heart twist and turn.

Sephiroth Crescent, first class SOLDIER had unwillingly plunged into an ocean of memories too deep for him to swim through because, by what he could see, the man was drowning in a past that had consumed him, maybe much more ruthlessly than Genesis' had originally presumed. But when he'd heard that laugh, bitter and low and filled with remorse, something inside the poet had simply and inevitably _snapped_.

Pain had gripped him too. Tightly. Yes. Pain and anger had torn at the sympathy –or was it pity?- he had first felt, painting a stern expression on his pale face. Ultimately, his anger had rattled his _tainted_ Jenova cells causing Sephiroth to break out of his thoughts and his remorse and to _acknowledge_ him, his present and what he'd done.

He'd left him to die… Genesis had asked for his help and the other man had crushed his hopes and sentenced him to a painful and slow death. How could he have done that? How could he have, without a glint of penitence, turned around and walked away. For Bahamut's sake, Sephiroth had signed his death sentence!

But why was it until now that all this feelings he thought forgotten had chosen to come marching forth from the black depths of his soul? Perhaps Genesis had not really considered what would happen if he confronted more than one element of his cruel past at the same time. Perhaps he'd managed to convince himself that he'd forgiven Sephiroth when, truth was, he had never taken the time to talk about this, to make amends, to forgive if not forget what he'd done.

Damn it! He'd left him to fucking die! He'd chosen to do it too. He'd chosen to give his back to him and he, Genesis… he could not forget that! No matter how much or how hard he tried, he felt it still in his heart, a prickle –constant and, because of that, annoying—in the back of his mind. Ever present now that he was forced to confront the whole picture.

Of course he'd felt nothing when he'd walked inside the reactor! It had not been the ShinRa facility what had left him to die, it had been him. Sephiroth Crescent. The one he'd thought had his back. Was it so strange that he would feel betrayed? Was it so strange that, even though so much time had passed by, he was still hurting?

And yet, he couldn't help but ask himself one question. Why had he chosen this moment to try and deal with his problems when it was clear that the moment could not have been more wrong? Or perhaps he'd done it precisely because sometimes a person needed to break before he could be mended? Maybe he'd seen, in those mako eyes, Sephiroth's sanity slipping away and Genesis -realizing that despite it all, he cared for the man- had reacted in the only way he knew… he'd extended a challenge. And Sephiroth Crescent, in all the years he'd shared with him, had never _ever_ turned down a challenge.

Yes. Maybe that was the reason why he'd acted as though he still held a grudge, even if part of him –a selfish and, because of that, very human one—had yet to make amends with that. Maybe, just maybe, Genesis had failed to see the hilt of the knife that was still lodge between his ribcage, a knife that had a blade of betrayal and which, consequently, had made his breaths become labored when the man had stepped inside the reactor.

Or maybe it was nothing like that at all. Maybe he just wanted to show Sephiroth that nothing was ever easy, not that the man was in need of being reminded of that… Or maybe he just wanted to remind him that their friendship stood in treacherous ground, and either they made it through or they wound up in a grave of dust below the ground. Whatever it was, here they were. Fighting against each other and yet truly they were fighting themselves, their demons, their past selfish selves.

At some point they'd both stropped the pretence that they wanted to hurt each other. At some point they'd switch their hurt and pain and anger onto their surroundings. For even if the reactor had really done nothing to them, it was still a symbol of the thing that had betrayed them both the most. The reactor was ShinRa's, and the company was the root of all their pain, even if –in an ironic twist of fate—it had also paved ground for the odd friendship they shared.

Thus, when Genesis lurch towards Sephiroth for what felt like the hundredth time, flaming, hybrid weapon held high, the other man did not even attempt to parry or move out of the way. And he was right. He'd stopped being his target a while ago and, in his stead, the blade struck the steel of one of the many closed pods that still stood in the reactor.

The pod opened and a body –a SOLDIER gone wrong, mako poisoning having transformed him into a creature struck in limbo, not human and not quite a monster either, but something in between—fell through the newly made gap. He was dead and withering and smelly. There was absolutely nothing glorious about him and Genesis wondered if the world would ever know that this is how some legends ended up. This is how even _them, _revered as heroes and half-angels, could have ended up if fate had been even crueler.

More anger, this one fueled by a sense of unfairness, prompted him to slash at all the other pods, to free the bodies inside so that they might attain… what? Release? Salvation? They were dead, he had to remind himself sternly. But that only increased his anger, not decreased it.

This was who they were. This was who they'd been. Monsters disguised as human beings. Had he not committed atrocities himself? Had he not helped ShinRa disposed of all his enemies without batting a single eye? Because, at the end of the day, this was the heart of the matter. Heros, angels and monsters were but a fingernail apart. Sometimes they were even the same thing, only people were incapable of seeing it, choosing instead to believe in something that was nothing more than an illusion. A carefully constructed illusion that was so real, Genesis had, in more the one occasion, even believed it to be true himself!

But he'd woken up and felt his life crumbling under morose disillusion. He'd seen his friends –he's oh so dear friends—pushed to the brink of insanity by it! What had Angeal said when he'd discovered what he really was? He'd immediately perceived himself as a monster, and even when Zack had argued that he was an angel, the only thing Angeal had wished for… the only thing he had _dreamed_ of… was of being human.

When Genesis broke away from his tumultuous musings, he found himself outside the reactor. A light drizzle of icy rain was helping in cooling some of his heated skin and even more heated emotions. Suddenly, he was just tired. So very tired of everything and yet, at the same time, he felt unburdened and free…

From out of the reactor's dark mouth came Sephiroth strolling at leisure towards him, his masamune held low at his side. The fire that had consumed Sephiroth was gone too, and in its stead there came a defeated warrior who still seemed to be trying to hold the entire world on his shoulders.

Not liking what he saw but not sure how to properly proceed either, Genesis called upon his fire spells and threw ball after ball of flames into the reactor's entrance. Soon the entire structure exploded and was wrapped in flames that seemed to dance to the small victory attained.

Genesis did not know if this would bring some rest to the souls that had been trapped in mako and steel, the souls whose bodies had just started to decompose but which reflected the abominations they had been subjected to. He did not know it, but somehow he felt better knowing that no one would ever witness what they had. No one would ever see them and regard them as what they were not. For they were not monsters. They were victims. The monsters… the monsters were still walking upon the face of Gaia and sometimes, most times, they called themselves angels.

When Sephiroth reached his side, the rain was pounding harder. Genesis noticed that he'd yet to turn around and see the spectacle that was bringing some strange calm to his heart. Instead, the older SOLDIER's luminicent gaze was intent upon the gloomy grey sky. He could have been imagining it, but as he stared into the profile of that face that had been revered so long as unexpressive, he thought he saw tears streaming down his cheeks.

_It's only the rain,_ he dismissed in his head, knowing that Sephiroth would welcome the excuse if he ever were to hear it. But Genesis did not talk. He did not tease or whispered soothing lies. Instead he just stood there, beside his friend and tore his gaze away to watch the sizzling flames. He had intruded into Sephiroth's hell for too long and he did not wish to drown in it too. He did not wish to press his luck either.

After a while, Sephiroth lowered himself to the ground. He seemed tired and old, much older all of the sudden. And though he was not panting as Genesis was, his limbs shook distinctively with something that he knew had nothing to do with the soaking wet clothes and the cold, howling wind that whipped at them from time to time.

Still looking at the opposite direction, Genesis followed suit. He sat with his shoulder touching the other SOLDIER but allowed himself no more contact than that. This is how they were. This is who they were. They did not hug and lie. They did not laugh and tease. They lingered on their hells alone, but reminded each other –by presence if nothing else—that they were not alone.

_Regardless of everything… I have your back, Sephiroth,_ Genesis promised, knowing there was no need to voice his thoughts, for that small press of shoulder against shoulder… that was more than enough.

**To be continued…**

**Story's notes:** Okay, so I just want to address something before anyone points it out. Some of you have brought to my attention how Tifa seemed to have change throughout the chapter (becoming weaker). However, I beg to differ. At the beginning she was alone and the thing that worried her the most was the happiness of her children and her patrons. Now, however, she has been given a burden. No longer is she worried only about her children and friends but about the whole world as well.

Additionally, though her thoughts reflect her troubled state of mind and heart (fear, doubt but also resolution) this is only how she regards herself. No matter how confident we are, it is part of human nature to question ourselves and our abilities, even if we never let it be known to anyone outside our head. Pay attention to the rest of the characters, however, for you will see that the weakness Tifa sees is only in her mind.

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**AN: **So, next chapter should have some actions (for those who were disappointed by the lack of it in this chapter). I wanted to include Sephiroth's POV but decided to keep it for next chapter instead. Please don't forget to **review** and let me know what you think so far.


	30. Burning Torch

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any of its characters. I am just burrowing them for a while.

**Author's notes: **Apologies on the delay for an update. More notes at the end of the chapter! ~Enjoy!

**Quick thanks to readers: **Midnight Marquis, Redseraph _(thank you very much, sorry for the delay!), _Sephiroth Owa13, always-kh _(thank you so much. I'm glad you like the handling of Tifa, some had their doubts, but you seem to understand what I am doing. And hopefully I will have more ReevexYuffi next chapter!), _Krad-Eelav, Galiriol, Command76, thankful reader _(thank you for your words and sorry for the delay in an update!), _Eva Von Dee and Neysa _(thank you so much, and yeah, apologies for taking so long to update. I'm impressed you read it all in one sitting, though. And thank you for appreciating my OCs, I've put effort into making them as human-like as possible). _

**Typos pointed out by**: _Ex Oxide _and _Sephiroth OWA 13_

**~Enjoy** and don't forget to **review**!

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"_A tragedy need not have blood and death; it's enough that it all be filled with that majestic sadness that is the pleasure of tragedy."_

_-Jean Racine-_

"**One Winged Angels"**

By: FenixPhoenix

**Chapter 30: "Burning Torch"**

* * *

**Sephiroth Crescent **walked out of the reactor, watching stoically as Genesis unleashed spell after spell, each swirling ball missing him by an inch or so as it raced towards the facility at his back. Unconcerned, he kept moving until he'd reached Genesis' side. He did not turn to look at him, even when he felt his blue eyes fall on him in silent contemplation.

Truthfully, he didn't care anymore. He simply couldn't bring himself to glare in order to be left alone with his misery, or, at the very least, to return the look levelly until the man had looked away. No. He couldn't care less if he had an audience. He was tired. Slowly, he brought his gaze up to the gloomy, tearing sky, wondering whether he also had an audience there, people who were long gone and were now passing judgment onto him from their seat in the afterlife.

What would they say, he wondered morbidly. Would they laugh at his pain or would they take pity on his soul? Sephiroth didn't know, but this time he _did_ care. Truth was, he wanted forgiveness, he truly did. He also wanted release and for a moment, brief as it might be, he wondered if it would've been easier if he'd chosen to stay in the lifestream, aimlessly floating in the peace that was its current. Who knows? Perhaps he would have even been able to find Angeal, Zack and Masamune and he could've stayed with them, lingered with them, _rest_ with them…

_And felt nothing?_ A voice inside him brought forward the other side of the coin. It was a reminder of what he wouldn't have had he chosen differently. If he'd stayed… then Tifa would have never weaved her life with his and then… where would he be? Would he really be better without her? Could he trade his current pain and the happiness she'd bring him for the nothingness of the lifestream?

He knew the answer before the question finished forming in his mind. No, he would not have been better. And no, he would never dare trade what was now his life –bleak as it might seem at the moment—if it meant he would never become part of hers.

The light drizzle slowly turned into a downpour which finished drenching him to the bone. Sephiroth felt something behind his eyes tightening, pinching his eyeballs most uncomfortably. His lids drooped halfway as a burning sensation settled there, stinging as everything he'd done, everything he couldn't stop himself from doing crashed upon him viciously. His armored shoulders slumped forward, his muscles tensed, his hands fisted, his lungs contracted, his throat dried and, with unbidden surprise, he felt his eyes _finally_ squeezing tears out.

He kept his face stripped of anything not because he was ashamed of the tears that were now streaming down his face. No. He did it simply because he didn't know how to feel. How _should_ he feel? Should he be happy that he was, after all, capable of such a genuine human emotion? Should he be relieved that he could even do it after he'd considered himself a monster for so long? Should he feel sadness, for ultimately those tears were prompted by his remorse? Or should he feel ashamed, for he was crying like a baby instead of dealing with this like the man he'd always boasted he was?

Then again, what kind of man did he wished to be? The man Masamune had hoped he became? The one ShinRa had hone to kill and lead their armies? The one Hojo had created in his quest for perfection? Or should he create one from scratch? One who would make Tifa proud and who would work his hardest to keep her from any and every harm? One who would wake up to her and would sleep to the sound of her peaceful breathing? One who would forever be by her side, careful to never take her for granted and thus, doing his _damn_ best to keep from ever disappointing her and pushing her away?

Yes. Perhaps he should only concentrate on that. One step at a time and maybe, just maybe he would be alright. He would overcome this and one day this would all be but a distant memory of a time that shouldn't have been but which was.

Yet, even as he filled himself with those hopeful thoughts, in the end one thing was for certain. Right now, right here… Sephiroth Crescent felt sad and aching and completely overwhelmed. Trying to cope with all of this, he ended up feeling more tired than ever before.

Unceremoniously, he impaled masamune on the muddy earth before crumbling on the hard ground almost boneless. And as if to externalize his sentiments, his spine bent, arms moving to his knees, hands fisted. His powerful shoulders slumped even more until one of them was lightly pressing upon masamune's sharp blade. The sword his master had given him and which had won him so many victories in battle was the only thing that was now keeping him from showcasing even more the sense of defeat that was filling him.

Behind him he could still feel the warmth of the flames that were consuming the place that echoed of so many sins, so many horrible deeds, so many bad memories. It felt right that the place should be reduced to ashes and yet, at the same time, it felt so very _wrong_. It was not so much the fact that they were destroying ShinRa property what bothered him –it never had before, after all- but the fact that the fire also reminded him of the time when he'd used his materia to set the little town of Nibelheim aflame all those years ago. The time when he'd thoroughly and uncaringly destroyed the life of the woman who had ended up becoming _everything_ to him.

Odin, right now, with the whispers of the fire at his back, he felt as though he'd just done it yesterday! As though he'd slashed at her fragile body mere hours ago! How arrogant of him! He'd thought he would be strong enough to face this cursed place and for a moment perhaps he'd successfully fooled himself into thinking he was okay… But then something –his body? His subconscious? His masochistic side?—had guided, pushed and tugged him to climb the treacherous mountain that was Mt. Nibel and then chaos had been set lose inside him and around him. The dam he'd meticulously built to keep his insanity at bay when he'd woken in the lifestream was inevitably broken and, undauntedly, his demons had been set lose to wreck havoc within him, shredding his soul into bits and pieces.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed guardedly as Genesis lowered himself, much more graciously, onto the ground beside him. He was still looking at his handiwork, the flames painting part of his skin with shades of oranges and yellows. He felt the pressure of his shoulder against his and, somehow, it brought some semblance of comfort to the General's aching soul.

Small as the gesture was, he appreciated it enormously, even if he could never find the proper words to articulate it. But despite his lack of experience with friendship, Sephiroth felt that he didn't have to say anything. It was odd, but perhaps Genesis knew it already? Perhaps this was what friendship was all about, knowing what the other was saying without him having to use his voice? Or at the very least, Sephiroth hoped it was something like this because, if not, he was treading on unknown territory and, even though he wanted, _needed_ this friendship, he was at a loss as to what to say or how to react.

Thus, he didn't say anything, telling himself that the fact that he wasn't moving away was answer enough. And it must have, because they stayed like that for what seemed like hours, though it couldn't have been more than half of one at most. By which time, the quiet General felt the pressure being retrieved and, subsequently, the comfort the touch had brought leaving his insides feeling colder than they'd been before. But Sephiroth did not say anything. He did not ask him to stay a little longer, even if he wanted the company. He'd hurt Genesis terribly and it was naïve of him to think he would be forgiven so easily and selfish of him to wish it so even more.

As the other SOLDIER shuffled away, his footsteps barely audible as his legs carried him back to the little town most probably, Sephiroth wondered –not devoid of worry- if he would be able to force himself to stand up anytime soon. He was aware that he couldn't very well stay here for the reminder of the day without prompting someone –most probably, a part of him hoped, Tifa—to come looking for him. And though that would make him infinitely happy, for he cherished her company deeply and knew that it would only take one smile from her to clear all pain and doubt away, he did not know if he could face her here, least of all now that he'd recalled with vivid detail what he'd done to her, how he'd _broken_ her.

By Alexander's holy judgment, it had been so red! The reactor's steps had been a waterfall of crimson after he-d—He stopped himself, afraid to blink for fear that he would see her again, wide-eyed and pale and falling and almost _dying_… Sephiroth's hands fisted tighter as self-loathing ruthlessly shoved away self-pity, promptly destroying whatever remnants of comfort Genesis' presence had brought. And just when he'd thought his anger would push him to the limit, making his heavier-by-the-second body push forward in order to cut his shoulder with his own blade, _she_ was there.

Everything stopped. Nothing mattered. His mind was blank but for her, for her presence, for her scent, her touch, her all. His verdant eyes widened when he felt her strong, bared arms wrap around his neck, her hands holding onto the straps of his coat, her skin touching the spot where he knew his heart was beating rapidly, as if wanting to leap out of the cage of his ribs to surrender itself to her.

But when had she come? One moment he had been alone and the next she was just there, as if she'd always been there, as if she'd just been returned to where she belonged. Tifa Lockhart completely froze him in place and filled his awareness with the light she always seemed to shed upon the dark pit that was his monstrous soul.

He felt the flow of tears that had stopped threatening to resume as the stinging grew more intense, blurring the sight of the peeping sun across the sea of clouds. Shiva, only she could make the stormy clouds inside his heart part to let the sun shine with just one touch, one smile, one look! And yet his mind was resolute in forcing him to remember, to keep in mind constantly that he'd hurt her! That he'd taken from her those she loved and burned the rest away!

"I… I can't remember him, Tifa," he croaked, his throat dry, his muscles tensed, his soul bleeding crystal, salty beads that streamed down his cheeks, to be lost within the sky's relentless and cold weeping. "I tried. I've been trying… but I can't…"

His words died on his uncooperative tongue and he hunched, if possible, even more with shame now predominating over everything. The General slowly felt her leaning even more onto him. The face she'd pressed onto the back of his neck moved to hover just above his right shoulder. The urge to gauge her reaction to his confession was too strong and he didn't even try to fight it. Instead, he turned to her as much as he could without breaking the hug that was firm and yet, to him, felt so fragile. To his surprise, he found not the hardness or pain he expected to see in her russet eyes, but a gentleness that _humbled_ him. A warm, sincere smile spread on those red lips he loved to cover with his own. It was the same lips that had introduced to him so many newfound feelings that made every pain and obstacle worth the struggle, if only to feel their softness time and again.

For a while, as they silently regarded each other, Sephiroth thought that perhaps she hadn't understood whom he'd referred to with his vague confession. But before he could try and make things clearer, she unhooked her arms from around him and moved back. Fear, ugly and strong, shot through him but he did not try to stop her. He _couldn't_. Odin, he'd hurt her so much!

Just as his mind was beginning to aim an arsenal of daggers at his own self, Tifa –the beautiful creature that had chained him so resolutely to her- was back, her arms around his neck, her damp cheek pressed against his.

He heaved a sigh of utter relief and, only after he took a second to regain his shaking composure, did he noticed that she was holding something in one hand and was using the other as a kind of umbrella, wishing to keep the item from being ruined in vain. Sephiroth automatically mimicked her, placing one of his bigger hands on top of hers, helping a bit more to stop the rain in order to preserve what he now realized was an old photograph of a young couple.

His eyes latched onto the face of the man, who was smiling as though he was the luckiest man alive. Beside him stood a short woman with a beaming smile, her bride dress pure white but with a plain design that still managed to seem rather elegant.

"Sephiroth, this is my mom, Lauren Lockhart, and my dad, Calen Lockhart," she introduced, her arm tightening around him, her voice as excited as she would have probably been had these people really had a chance to meet him under the present circumstances.

With a drenched finger he gently stroke the edge of the photograph, committing to memory the faces that greeted him from another place, a happier time. He could see Tifa's resemblance to them. She had her mother's brown hair but her father's dark eyes. And she had, he decided, both of their smiles. For a split second, he wondered if he and Tifa would ever look like this, as though the world had just opened an Eden on Gaia just for them.

"My mom was an excellent cook and she also made most of my clothes when I was younger. All the girls in town used to get jealous whenever I would sport one of my mom's outfits. They were always beautiful, just like her smile here, see?" Tifa informed, and Sephiroth didn't have to turn to know that she was smiling just as beautifully as her mom.

"What happened to her?" he asked in a whisper, remembering –with something akin to relief- that he had not seen her when he'd come to Nibelheim to check on the reactor, which meant that he had not tore her away from Tifa as he'd done with her dad. He did not know precisely why, but he was interested in this, in all of what she had to say about them. Sephiroth was thirsty for knowledge of her, especially for knowledge about a past that had nothing to do with him and what his wrath had done to her town.

"She died when I was eight. It was a disease what killed her… it was incurable and inevitable," she answered with only a slight tingle of sadness marring her voice, but it oddly felt as though she'd finally made her peace with that.

But faded as it might be, the sadness was still there, and Sephiroth found himself wishing to extend the same comfort she was giving him. So he moved his free hand to grasp one of her arms and he squeezed it firmly.

He knew that his small action had worked when Tifa continued in a more cheerful voice, "Now my dad, he was a great musician. He could play the piano like an angel, his hands moving on the keys as though they were born for it. He was a good man, level headed and hard working, with an easy smile that made everyone feel comfortable around him."

Tifa didn't say how he'd met his end and Sephiroth was grateful for it. "He sounds like a good man," he acknowledged, and then added almost as an afterthought, "They were good parents, weren't they?"

She nodded, "They were the best." There was a short pause before her melodic voice rose again, "Mom, dad," she began, happiness dripping from her voice in thick beads, "this is Sephiroth Crescent. He used to be a first class SOLDIER but got a little lost along his way. He managed to find his path again, though. And he has become a good man, even if sometimes I have to remind him of that fact," she chuckled and the sound was like a medicine for the hurt he'd felt, which was now retreating and dispersing and disappearing.

He leaned back onto her a little, listening as she continued talking to her parents as if they were standing right there. And who knows, perhaps they were watching from the other side, smiling as their daughter continued her obviously biased description of him. "He has pledged to help me save the world for a second time. Yes, I know. Piece of cake, right?" she chuckled again. "Needless to say, he's made me real happy and I just want you to know that I'll be alright. That we'll be alright. But, just in case, keep an eye on us and don't be shy to let us know if we ever think we are _not_ good enough for one another, okay?"

That did it. Sephiroth couldn't hold it anymore and, twisting, he finally pulled her into his arms. He hugged her tightly to him, her body molding to him in a most pleasant way. He felt unwilling to let her go, wishing nothing more than to completely lose himself into the presence that was her. Odin, he was lucky! He was not as presumptuous as to believe that she was lucky too. No, he'd definitely gotten the better end of the bargain. He did not know if it was fair that someone who had done so much wrong would be allowed to feel so much happiness, but he was selfish and at that moment, he didn't care. If he brought a smile to her face or stole a kiss from her lips, then nothing else mattered. All that mattered was her, in his arms, with him.

"Good. That's more like it," she approved teasingly, retuning his embrace just as fiercely and slapping a playful kiss on the side of his neck. Then, evidently trying not to stretch the distance between them –not that there had been any distance since she'd arrived to begin with—she fidgeted with her clothes and, after a second or so, managed to successfully store the picture of her parents away, pushing it into an inner pocket of her vest. It was only when she zipped the leather fabric close that he realized she wasn't wearing her coat and had been exposed to the elements for way too long.

"Tifa, where's your coat?" he asked even though he'd already figured out the answer.

"Huh?" she asked clearly confused by the sudden change of topic.

"You'll get sick," he pointed out, standing up and then, offering her a hand, pulling her to her feet. As if realizing this, her hands automatically folded across her chest, hugging her body when it registered that she was indeed cold.

Sephiroth shook his head with the beginning of amusement, pulled his masamune out of the ground –it felt a lot more lighter than before—and was just about to gather her into his arms again when something inside him shook in alarm. Without a word, they both jumped back when a figure was thrown in their direction, crashing into the ground and sliding until he came to stop at Tifa's feet in a haggard heap.

"Genesis!" she gasped, recognizing him and kneeling beside the bloodied, cursing warrior.

"I hate to _crash_ on your party," he chuckled at his own joke and then hissed with pain, his gloved hand holding a bleeding wound on his side, "but we have company and, though I tried my best, I was unable to entertain them for too long on my own. What kind of hosts are you guys, anyways?"

Sephiroth moved towards them as Tifa proceeded in healing the poet. He positioned himself right in front of them, ready to protect them both from whatever threat was coming their way. His leather clad hand tightened on the hilt of his long masamune in anticipation. Anger, hot and searing, spread inside his heart at being interrupted but he was quick to blanket it with coolness before the heat could reach his head and cloud his thoughts. With narrowed, verdant eyes he watched as four warriors made their way towards them at a leisure stroll, coming out from within the thin layer of mist which was by now hiding part of the mountain from view.

Two of them he recognized immediately –Uriel and Sephiel—and though he'd fought and he would like to think defeated them before, he was still weary of their presence. Actually, _all_ of them produced a flower of worry to bloom inside the pit of his stomach. Sephiroth could already feel his Jenova cells shaking as they tried to communicate with the ones inside the glowering group of mako-infused warriors.

He turned slightly sideways to glance at Tifa and Genesis, who were both still on the ground behind him. He grimaced as he took in the state of the poet's body, multiple wounds marked the fact that he had indeed tried to engaged them all in battle at the same time. Sephiroth stopped himself from frowning in silent scolding at the younger male. He couldn't really be as arrogantly dense as to believe he would be capable of dealing with the four of them on his own, could he?

"Uuuuuu, big bro!" one of the women said. She had a spiky Mohawk running across her bald head and eyes alight with –wait, was that real happiness he detected? Jumping from one foot to the other in obvious excitement, a broad smile on her face, she continued undeterred by his silent inspection, "I soooo wanted to meet you like for for-evar! Pl-ease can you give me a hug? Pretty pl-ese?"

"I'm guessing this must be, Zariel," Tifa suggested, stepping up to stand by his side as Genesis flanked her. Russet eyes swept the group but zeroed on the woman who had given a step forward and seemed about ready to rush at them at any minute. In a lower voice she added, "Yeap, she would definitely fit Cloud's description of creepy like a glove."

"Have you finished resting, Genesis?" he asked in solemn jest, though the underlying message was if he was up to fighting again.

The poet cracked his neck and with mock indignation pointed out, "This coming from the one who joined the party late?" He rolled his shoulders, called forth flames to sprout from the core of his hybrid blade, and smirked, "Shall I dance with the two ladies?"

Sephiroth didn't care so long as no one hurt Tifa. If they did, he would personally send them all to the gates of hell. "Tifa," he called to her, knowing that he needed to voice his worry, "stay close to me."

Tifa snorted, making him turn to her with both eyebrows raised.

"Well, it depends, Sephiroth," she said and, with dismay, he noticed mischief stealing its way into her eyes, making them twinkle despite their unfair odds. He raised an eyebrow in silent query and she graced him with a quick answer, "It depends on whether you can keep up with me or not."

"Enough of this crap!" the shortest of the bunch spat, snapping the air with a wicked-looking whip. "You all die now!"

And with that, the standstill was broken and both sides met each other in a furry of steel and leather.

**-o0o-**

**Vincent Valentine **was abruptly filled with a feeling of danger. He sat perfectly still, listening to his inner demons and extracting from their guttural speech what he needed to know. As a big part of him had expected since coming, Jenova had at last found them.

Pushing out from the table, he gained his feet, muscles tensed in anticipation of the trouble ahead. Rie, nose buried inside a book, didn't even acknowledge him despite having slid his chair noisily across the floor. He opened his mouth to warn her, but then thought better of it. The fight wasn't here, it was some ways away. If he brought her, what good would she be? It was obvious that at this point –even with the training they'd been giving her- she was more a liability in a fight than an asset. Perhaps she should then stay here? She would be, after all, safer in the mansion's basement than out there in the middle of a fierce fight.

Mind made up, he approached her and faking nonchalance said, "I need some air, I'll be back soon."

Rie nodded absentmindedly, her eyes still scanning the impossibly small lines on her book with outstanding rapidness. Shrugging at how easy that was, he walked slowly out the door and, as soon as he was some ways away, he switched to a sprint. In less than a couple of minutes, he was out. Tapping into the partition of his mind that held Chaos, he pulled it opened and, without having to be coaxed, the demon rushed out, merging with him. He felt his body transforming, muscles stretching uncomfortably until he felt the power of a more resistant body –like a shell—embracing his own.

He fell right beside Chaos, directing him carefully, not willing to give him full control but not pushing too hard that he would turn to fight him instead of those ahead. Smoothly, he planted the idea that the Jenova warriors fighting Tifa needed to be dealt with and he did it so successfully, that Chaos jumped to the sky soon after, moving with incredible speed towards the place where –thanks to their enhanced senses—they could already hear the symphony of clashing weapons.

The winged demon dived headfirst into the fight, moving in a black and red blur directly towards the humongous warrior that was engaging Tifa. Giving no one time to react to his arrival, he crashed into the man's side, sending him flying through the air and then skidding on the ground for a good five meters, until he'd hit a protruding rock, hard.

"Vincent! Chaos!" Tifa called happily between pants. She used a hand to brush the sweat gathered in her forehead and beamed, "Nice save."

Vincent was surprised when Chaos growled not in anger, but in approval.

"I'll deal with this one," Vincent said, pushing Chaos a tiny bit back in order to speak that one line. Quickly, though, he gave Chaos back the reins before the entity could become hostile. Not even waiting to hear her answer, the demon lurch itself at the warrior that was slowly getting to his feet. Chaos' clawed fist crashed so hard against his enemy's side, that Vincent heard something crack.

The big warrior, though, seemed unconcerned for he quickly counterattacked by driving his elbow into the side of his face, putting some much needed distance between them. Chaos shook his head and Vincent felt his anger flaring and, within it, his excitement.

"Yes, I can hit hard too," the man, who Vincent remembered was called Uriel, said with mocking cordiality, spitting a mouthful of blood before both hands gripped the hilt of his sharp, thick, dangerous-looking axe.

In a moment, they were at each other's throats again. Despite his huge figure, the man was faster than Vincent had anticipated, but in no way was he as fast as the boy he'd fought before. To compensate, though, he was not only much stronger but he had also longer reach, which helped in landing a couple of blows to his arms and shoulders.

The battle progressed in all fronts with furious intensity. At some point, Chaos switched opponents with Genesis, engaging instead a crazed girl sporting a messy Mohawk. Vincent was forced to acknowledge that this girl left Uriel in the dust in concerns to reach. Her strange flexibility allowed for some moves that defied the limitations of a natural body, giving further testament to the fact that she couldn't be entirely human.

Chaos moved out of the way as the slim body of Zariel came spinning towards him, arms outstretched with blades attached on them. As if sensing his movements, she stopped spinning, redirected her attention and launched herself against him with newfound energy. Chaos took the challenge head on, strengthening his stance by placing his feet further apart and crouching slightly. When she was almost upon him, he took hold of her wrists and spun her twice before letting go. She yelped as she flew through the air in an arch.

Chaos went after her, his superior speed catching her just as she was in the highest point of the sky and, with ruthless brutality, he held his hands together and hammered down at her back. The woman didn't even have time to yell before she crashed onto the rocky ground, cracking it like one would do an egg.

With a satisfied growl, Chaos descended to inspect what was left of his opponent, only to feel her knuckles connecting with his chin as she jumped out of the hole he'd created. Laughing uncontrollably, Zariel jumped after him and, before he could regain his balance, brought her knee up into his stomach, further propelling him into the sky. But that was not enough for her, the damn woman was quick to follow-up with a downward chop to the back of his head, the bone of her hand feeling as though it was filled with lead.

Chaos spun in the air and somehow managed land on his feet like a cat. In the disorientation that followed, however, Vincent felt Chaos' anger swelling. Without being prompted, the entity moved out of his control and opened the partitions of the rest of the beasts. Vincent was left in the wake of a whirlwind of power that begun to center around Chaos. The beast absorbed it into himself, harvesting the strength of his other beastly counterparts and tripling his speed. Vincent felt it. He felt the anger and the sensational power that now coursed through his body -_their_ body.

He refocused his attention back on the crazed woman that was coming closer and closer, eating the distance like a gluttonous Malboro. Spreading his hands with palms facing her, Chaos pushed all that power within him out in one swift move. A ball of white, searing energy soared through the sky, ripping through the air, burning the oxygen around it before finally slapping into Zariel, who had been unable to get out of the way in time.

Zariel's body caught on fire almost immediately, like a dry torch draped in oil. The scream that came out from within the falling white flames made even the mighty Chaos flinch. It was a screech so intense, that it froze everyone in place. Vincent felt Chaos retreating, as if the sound was too much for his sharper senses and actually caused him more discomfort than a physical wound. The gunslinger stepped in and regretted it almost instantly. The smell of burning flesh made him cringe and, if not for his training, he would have vomited right then and there, much like Sephiel and Tifa did.

Zariel fell on the ground with a loud thud. Somehow still clinging to life, she rolled on the hard ground, screaming at the top of her lungs as she tried in vain to put the flames out. She arched her back, clawing at the ground as the fire consumed her slowly, dissolving her clothes and eating at her red, blotched skin, the flames too strong for the rain to douse. A last scream escaped her lips followed by the gurgling sound of a collapsed lung, then, at last, after what felt like an eternity, there was silence.

It was Sephiel the first to break the standstill. He collected the water from the rain with a spell, as though with an invisible bucket and poured it at his companion, dousing the flames after two more spells. But it was too late. By the time the flames were out there was nothing remaining but a charred, unidentifiable corpse that smelled like roasted flesh gone rotten.

Again there was silence. The Jenova warriors stood with incredulity masks stuck on their faces, eyes filled with confusion and, below that, the realization that one of their own was gone.

Uriel was the only one that dared approach the smoking corpse, his eyes were already red and glazed with unshed tears. Vincent could see his limbs trembling with emotion as he reached for her, unconcerned about the smell or the texture of the corpse or even the fact that he was in the midst of his enemies. But truthfully, nobody knew what else to do, not even the harden ex-Soldiers. It was as if they'd all suddenly stepped into unknown territory. It was as if they'd been playing a game all along and nobody was supposed to get hurt.

"Sis?" Ariel called softly, roughly and, when no answer came, she screamed with both pain and anger leaving her throat dry. Raging eyes tore away from the scene and posed on Vincent. The power of that look scared him but he kept his ground. "I'll kill you, demon! I'll skin you alive and boil you until you beg for mercy, and then I'll boil you some more!"

Before she could try to make good on her gruesome promise, a loud explosion stole everyone's attention. Vincent, along with everyone else except maybe Uriel, spared a glance in its direction only to realize, to their great dismay, that the mansion was on fire.

"Where's…Vince, where's Rie?" Tifa asked, but Vincent could say nothing.

His face, however, must have answered because her eyes widened with dread. Deep inside, Vincent realized that part of her dread must surely come from her past. She'd seen people burning. Heck, Zariel's demise might have even stirred things inside her that should never have been awakened.

"Oh, Holy, no… please tell me you did not… oh, no," she whispered, her tone shaking with the implications.

"Tifa," Sephiroth called, his voice composed despite all they've seen, "it's alright. Go, we've got this covered," he assured, gripping his masamune tighter, readying himself to jump back into the fray.

When Tifa still seemed torn about what to do, the general's verdant eyes moved from her to the silent figure of Genesis. The two ex-SOLDIERs must have sustained some sort of conversation in that one look, because, nodding in acceptance Genesis agreed that Tifa should go.

"Just… find, Rie. Help her, and keep her safe…," the poet added, looking not at their leader but at him, at Chaos and Vincent underneath. "We'll join you guys when we can."

Vincent heard the words, but honestly couldn't understand them. Or rather, he couldn't understand _them_. Why this sudden decision to risk it all for some researcher? Wasn't their cause bigger than Rie? Or was it really the research they were asking Tifa to save?

No. Genesis had asked her –wait! No, he'd asked him, hadn't he? He'd asked him to protect Rie? What the hell— Wait, wait, wait! Rie was also his companion, wasn't she? So why was he even questioning this? Wouldn't he try to save as many innocents as possible?

Vincent shook his head, still feeling the odd man out, as though he'd been left out of something important. Part of him also worried about the small but important change he felt within him, the core of it being his sudden disregard of a life he should value more. He wondered if this had something to do with what Chaos had done, but he didn't have time to prod that line of thought deeper, for just when the idea occurred to him, he noticed Tifa making her way towards him. She stopped an inch away and grabbed him by the front of his cape, more to snap him out of his reverie he guessed, than to gain his attention, which she already had.

In the background, he heard Ariel and Sephiel saying something, issuing threats or demanding explanations if their tone was any indication. But he didn't have time to pay attention or even acknowledge it. All he could see and all he could hear was Tifa.

"Chaos, take me there!" She pointed at the mansion where bright, orange flames now licked out of the windows and roof. Painting the sky a shade that reminded him of the woman he'd consumed in flames, "Chaos… Vincent! Do it! Now!"

Vincent didn't need to be told twice. Her tone prompted him to fall into action and, grabbing her by the waist, he jumped into the sky, spreading his wings with the help of a returning Chaos. The arms around Tifa tightened considerably as the demon shared his control, Vincent allowing it for now. His guard, however, was up. Instinctively, he braced himself for an attack which should have come, but which never came. Confused, he spared a single glance behind him. Sephiroth and Genesis had resumed fighting, allowing no interruptions to their retreat.

"Tifa," Vincent began, not knowing what to do. Wondering if three against one were better odds than the four against three they'd just given up. Inside, he could feel Chaos wriggling, unsure, wanting to go back as bloodlust boiled in the pit of his stomach, Vincent did his best to keep the beast at bay.

"They'll be okay," Tifa said softly, not once looking back. And Vincent wondered if she believed it.

**-o0o-**

**Tifa Lockhart **pushed away from Chaos as soon as her feet touched the ground. To her dismay, she'd only given two steps before she found her way barred by another one of Jenova's warrior, this one with long, flaming hair and golden, angry eyes.

The figure of Chaos loomed over her protectively and then stepped in front of her, glaring at the warrior, threatening him. The redheaded did not look impressed, if anything he looked slightly amused.

Golden eyes switched to look at her for a moment. "You may go in, I won't stop you," he said to her, his words barely heard above the sound of his sword leaving its scabbard. His eyes, as if losing interest, returned their attention to her companion and a wicked smile formed on his thin lips, extending a challenge that could not be refused.

"I'll deal with him," it was Vincent's voice that came out, but it was marred by a guttural edge that marked he was sharing control with Chaos. Before she could answer, the two figures had started a waltz of death, leaving her forgotten.

Confused by how easily she'd been granted entrance, she wondered if Rie was dead. The prophecy had foretold death after all, hadn't it?

"A prayer whispering upon great deuce, will cause tears shed for those who're doomed," she found herself chanting in a barely audible whisper. Doom. Was Rie doomed? Was she the one that would whisper the prayer?

Shaking her head she pushed the morbid thoughts aside. There was a reason why the future should not be known, but lived! If she kept believing this prophecy was real, wouldn't she end up making it happen? Wouldn't she end up orchestrating the events so that it happened so? So that someone would betray her?

No! She had to stop. A prophecy was only a possibility, not an absolute. Tifa refused to believe something like that would happen. She refused to believe that someone would dare betray them! Yes. It was what her heart believed what mattered. What use was to worry about something that might not even come to pass! Something that she would not _allow_ to happen even if it killed her!

No, Rie was okay. She had to be. The idea of finding a charred corpse came from the shock of seeing Zariel's cruel demise. She knew that it was her own fear that was making connections that weren't there. This had nothing to do with the prophecy. This was just one more obstacle along her way, one that would not stop her from achieving her goal, from keeping her people safe!

"I'm not losing anyone, damn it!" She vowed through gritted teeth as, with one last prayer to Shiva, she sprang through the tunnel of flames that was now the mansion's entrance. She kept moving at a measured sprint, careful to control her breathing; else she would inhale too much smoke and pass out before being of real help to anyone.

Tifa was both surprised and rather glad to find that not all the rooms were on fire yet. Thus, she tried her best to keep as far away from the snakes of flames as possible. Of course, she knew she was still running against the clock. This was an old house and, even if the weather was humid because of the rain, it did not stop the flames from continuing their path of destruction. If anything, it only slowed them.

Yes, there was little time and, truthfully, Tifa wanted to be out of this burning den as soon as possible. Who knew how old the foundations were? Or, more importantly, how well taken care of they were! For all she knew, the entire structure could come down on her head at any moment and then what? She'd be buried alive, with no hope of helping her friends or saving the world!

She shook her head again, jumping above a path of flames to finally reach the stairs that would take her belowground. She cursed the fact that smoke was rising from the tunnel, which could only mean that either the explosion began downstairs or there were two explosions, none of the possibilities bode well.

"Rie!" She called, cupping her hands to her mouth. She listened until the echo died and tried again, "Rie, are you there?" She yelled at the top of her lungs, hesitating going further, fearing the worst, hoping for courage to make her feet move from where they had been rooted.

The sound of her voice faded. She waited for a bit more, even when she knew no answer would come. Finally, she tired of waiting and, squaring her shoulders, she moved in, taking two steps at the time, eager to find the girl and leave. Because of course she was alive! She'd promised Reeve she would keep her safe and she'd promised herself she would never let anyone die again… not after Aerith… _never_ again.

Tifa felt the hairs at the back of her neck standing when she saw the corpses. Monsters laid everywhere drowned in pools of their own blood, ripped apart by something that was extremely salvage and extremely dangerous. If she didn't know better, she would think a pack of dragons had turned this basement into their hunting ground, which of course, was ridiculous because there was no way they would even fit!

As she continued on, Tifa was heedful of every shadow she passed, almost waiting for something to pounce on her. But nothing happened. Everything was quiet. Too quiet for comfort. The only sound was the clicking of wood being burned here and there, but apart from that there was nothing, not even a lot of things were on fire for that matter.

After minutes that felt like hours, she reached the first part of the vast library in the underground laboratory where Sephiroth had, so many years ago, spent the last of his sanity studying journals of scientists who had been experimenting with Jenova cell. Almost all the shelves here were on fire, but, to her confusion, the tongues of flames were sluggish, barely moving, barely consuming. It was almost as though someone had found a way to cast slow on the fire itself.

The idea that maybe someone had cast haste on her popped into her mind, but she dismissed it immediately. She didn't have the feeling like she was moving faster. No, she was moving at her own pace. It was the flames that were not.

"How can this be?" she whispered, feeling even more perplexed. This was unnatural. It was only the caster of a spell that could be slowed down, not the spell itself and certainly not something as uncontrollable as fire!

A sudden scream snapped her out of her trance and, without thinking, Tifa ran towards the sound. She was on edge by the time she made it to the very end of the laboratory, where she and her group had placed a table and chairs and gotten to read some of the journals that had survived Sephiroth's onslaught the day he lost his sanity.

"Ah, you've come, finally," a man said. He was sitting in a chair in front of Rie, who was lying flat atop the table, eyes wide and glazed and empty, as though she was lost inside herself. She screamed again, holding her head, shedding tears as she looked at the ceiling, or rather at something that wasn't there. She mumbled incoherently and, though it felt warm, she was sweating as though she was inside an oven.

Tifa has seen her like this only twice before. At both occasions she'd been sleeping. It was the nightmares that Reeve said she'd been getting ever since they found her several years ago.

"Who are you? What did you do to her?" Tifa asked, her tone issuing an unvoiced threat.

The handsome, silver haired man smiled at her and she was surprised to see there was no malice that she could detect. This was more worrying than if he'd sneered, for that would have at least been something expected.

"My name is Raphael. And do not fret, Tifa. This child is merely sleeping," he assured, brushing Rie's bangs out of her forehead gently. The movement made her muscles tense even more, and she half-expected him to suddenly choke her to death. But he didn't.

"Wake her up," Tifa snarled, giving one step towards him in warning, but not wishing her recklessness to cause her friend further harm, "now!"

The man shook his head and stood up slowly, moving around the table until he had positioned his slim body between her and the still sleeping, still suffering Rie.

"We need to talk first," he explained, leaning back so that half his buttocks were placed on the table, his pose speaking of a relaxation she was far from feeling.

"Unless you want to surrender, I have nothing to talk to you about," Tifa said coldly, crossing her arms defensively, wishing someone was here to help get Rie out of this oppressing room.

"You've killed one of my children," The man reminded gently, with a tingle of sadness –not rage, she was quick to note—in his smooth voice. He wiggled his finger and, out of nowhere, a flower appeared. It was a red rose. "She was beautiful, and you destroyed her," he said and, as if to make his point clearer, the rose caught on fire and disintegrated sluggishly. It took a full minute for it to fall out of his hands, the fire had not touched the man.

Tifa felt her throat constrict as the action brought the image of Zariel's death back into the front of her mind. She didn't want to accept it, for that woman was their enemy, she'd tried more than once to kill her friends, but Tifa regretted how she'd met her end. She regretted that she'd had to suffer until the very end. And, more importantly, she regretted not helping her get there faster, not giving her the mercy of a quicker death.

"She…," Tifa was at a loss. She wanted to say that she deserved it. That she'd brought it upon herself. That by antagonizing them, they would all meet that same fate. But she couldn't. Maybe it was the fact that this man seemed so… gentle. So unlike what she believed. This was Raphael. He was the leader of the bunch, but he was not the ruthless monster she had imagined, and it was confusing her, making her wonder.

"She was a victim," he finished for her, and it had not been a question.

"She was a soldier of Jenova," Tifa corrected, forcing herself to push her empathy out of the way. People depended on her. She had to be strong. She had to listen to her mind and keep her heart locked. They were her enemies! They were her enemies until they left Jenova to face her wrath for all the hurt she'd caused!

"Nothing is that simple, Tifa," Raphael said, admonishing her as one would a child. "Do you know what the shadow project it?"

Tifa shook her head, unsure of why he was telling her this, wondering the reasons behind it. Surely, he wouldn't give her information without getting something in return. After all, they were on opposite sides of a war, and not any war, but a war with the world as the final prize.

Unreadable, Raphael spread his arms wide and, in a blink, their environment changed. Instead of being in a burning library, they were in a cold, dark laboratory. It was pristine and metal, with nothing remotely human about it. Tifa felt her neck aching with newfound tension.

What had he done? Had he somehow teleported them somewhere, like Sephiroth and Genesis were able to? And if so, where was she? What would happen now? She'd left them all! She'd left them fighting an enemy that outnumbered them!

Oh, Shiva, what had she done…

"Do not worry, Tifa," Raphael said soothingly, and, as if having read her mind, he added, "We are still in Nibelheim. This is just… a memory."

"What is your intention? Why show me this?" she asked with distrust, wishing she had more control over the situation, but knowing she could do nothing but play the spectator.

"I want you to understand what you've done. I want you to understand why we fight. Nothing is simple. Nothing is black or white, good or evil," he answered cryptically. Then, sliding his hand through the air as though presenting a play, he said, "This is where she was born. Zariel was born and bred in this laboratory. She was the result of cruel and inhuman experimentation. She was the consequence of a whim of scientists who wanted to _play_ God."

Raphael spoke those last words with disgust and Tifa couldn't help thinking of Hojo, of what he'd done, of how he'd hurt Vincent and Sephiroth. But she didn't tell him so. She didn't tell him that she understood his anger, his frustration. She didn't say anything because she didn't know anything. And that was the heart of the matter, wasn't it? How was she expected to fight an enemy that she knew so little about? Perhaps this was good? Perhaps this was a breakthrough? Perhaps this was an opportunity to learn that should not be wasted, that should not be stopped, that should not be ignored?

Unconcerned about her thoughts, Raphael continued, "Zariel was among the first attempts at replicating life to form a new line of soldiers, ensembled like one would a weapon. Everything about her was enhanced, chosen and put into place. They created a body that was a living, breathing weapon… but they forgot about the rest."

Raphael posed golden, sad eyes on her. The look seemed to pierce her, to see her soul and the beginning of guilt that he'd purposely planted there.

"I will show you who she was, Tifa, so that you might understand who you've extinguished. I will show you her memories so that you may understand why she was how she was, how humanity had wronged her and why you, Tifa, are the one standing on the wrong side…"

**To be continued…**

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**AN: **So, I apologize deeply for the LONG wait. I know that a lot of your would have been disappointed by the lack of an update, but life has a way of standing on the way of my writing. I've been working so much that I barely had time to spare. I want to thank all of you who have not abandon this story and who have messaged me or spared time to review and rekindle my muse to keep writing this.

Anyhow, I will try to update sooner, but I can make no promises due to my master classes (I feel like one week of advertising equals a year of work. God, I'm hating this!). Believe me, if I could write for a living, I would, lol.

Please do review if you have the chance and the inclination, it means a lot!

Cheers,

FenixPhoenix


	31. Broken Child

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any of its characters. I am just burrowing them for a while.

**Author's notes: **Okay, I know you read this every chapter… but apologies for the long wait! I'm on break right now, so my intent is to actually finish this story before the next semester! So expect more regular updates from here on! Thank you so much for your support! I hope the length of the chapter makes up for your wait!

**Quick thanks to readers: **Whoo _(thank you so much for your review and I apologize for the long wait!), _, Carrie _(thank you so much for your review. Indeed, you'll soon get to understand Rie and I also share your love for Genesis. I enjoy writing him just as much as I enjoy writing Sephiroth and Tifa, maybe even a bit more, lol), _Neysa _(Apologies for the long wait and the last cliffhanger!), _Lili _(thank you so much for your review. Are you_ _JazUmiN13 in DA, btw? If not, then of course I don't mind fanart! Just be sure to share it with me so I can see it!), _Acolyte of the Blood Moon, Shynsei, Midnight Marquis, HopelessRomanticist, Blue Deity, Command 76, Eva Von Dee _(for some reason I was unable to reply to you through PM, so I'll do it here. Thank you so much for your kind words and your support. I agree that Vincent is hard to write, so I'm glad you think I've succeeded!), _Auktober _(hope you've reached this chapter!)_, Eva _(here you go! Sorry about the long wait!), _and Tracyboo _(thanks for the reviews!)._

**Typos pointed out by**: _Ex Oxide _and _Sephiroth Owa 13._

**~Enjoy** and don't forget to **review**!

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"_I believe humanity was born from conflict. Maybe that's why in all of us lives a dark side. Some of us embrace it. Some have no choice. The rest of us fight it. And in the end, it's as natural as the air we breathe."_

_-Penelope Garcia (Criminal Minds)-_

"**One Winged Angels"**

By: FenixPhoenix

**Chapter 31: "Broken Child"**

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**Zariel** stared at the small creature who'd been cowering for hours in the corner. Unsure, she hugged her legs and placed her head atop her knees, trying in vain to protect herself from the onslaught of emotions that his whimpering had unleashed.

It broke her heart, it truly did, to hear such sadness coming out of the small pup. She wondered, not for the first time, if he had a mother somewhere. She, after all, understood the feeling of being torn away from all that was known. She too felt abandoned after being ripped away from the arms of a woman that had taken care of her until she was five.

Zariel stared at him in silence until she was convinced that "the uncles" wouldn't come to take him away. Slowly, so as not to scare him, she made her way on hands and knees towards him. When she was a meter or so away, she stopped and called to him in gentle whispers, patting her lap in hopes to make herself less of a threat.

At her proximity, the puppy's whimpers became almost frantic as he curled into a tighter ball. Zariel didn't rush him, instead she bided her time, sitting on her legs with a small smile on her face. Her efforts paid up when the pup calmed down and, with short, hesitant steps, finally began closing the distance between them.

Zariel's smile widened when the brown boxer pressed himself to her lap, shaking and crying even as she comforted him. She knew that it was wrong of her to feel happy about what the pup had been through, but she couldn't help it. She couldn't help the joy that blossomed in her chest because, at long last, after two years of complete solitude, of having no contact with anyone at all, she had found a companion!

As days turned to weeks and weeks to months, Zariel nursed the little dog until he was happy and strong. She named him Boir, opting to call him Bo unless he'd done something to displease her. Even when locked inside the small, white prison, Zariel managed to keep Bo strong by sharing her food with him, food that would mysteriously appear on the table –the only piece of furniture apart from two chairs that had been given to her- every morning.

During the three following years, Zariel interacted only with Bo and the strange voice that would speak to her for four hours every day, imparting lessons that she could not question or contradict. The feminine voice would speak and teach and Zariel, eager for anything to keep her mind from remembering that she could not escape this white room, would absorb it like a sponge.

One day, however, after Boir had turned two, something suddenly disrupted her routine. She was running around the small room, playing tag with him, when one of the cold, empty walls parted to reveal two silhouettes. After a brief examination of either the room or them –Zariel wasn't sure— in came the two men.

Though she didn't know them, she knew what they represented. They were _uncles_ -their signature white coats being evidence enough of that. Both uncles were big and hairy and Zariel, having almost forgotten what humans looked like, froze on the spot and watched them warily as they crossed the room.

Without a word or a smile, the uncles marched towards the empty, silver table. With surprising grace, they each took a chair side by side and promptly spread the papers they'd been holding before them. For a while, they busied themselves with their notes. They picked a page, study it and then moved to the next, neither paying her or the growling Bo any mind.

After what felt like hours, the shorter of the two uncles deigned to acknowledge her. His hand slipped inside his coat and brought out a knife which he reverently placed on the edge of the table, right in front of her. Zariel's eyes jumped from the man to the knife and back again, wondering what they wanted, fearing what they would do. The last time she'd seen any of the uncles, they'd taken her away from the arms of a woman who'd taken care of her and left her here, alone and forgotten. It wasn't these uncles, at least she didn't think so, but that didn't make her any less hesitant about approaching them or, worst, addressing them.

"Zariel," the tallest of the uncles said in a voice stripped of any emotion she was familiar with. She focused on him, surprised to hear her name being called out loud. She'd been alone for so long that she'd almost forgotten it! She found it weird that, in the middle of all the changes her life was undergoing, her mind would so readily latch onto that small detail.

Stranger still was that she soon found the clear, blue eyes of the man scared and worried her more than the appearance of the sharp knife. Zariel's eyes trailed away as the look became too much to bear, already she was shaking from head to toe, her legs feeling so weak that she wouldn't be surprised if she ended up on her knees at some point in time.

"Zariel," the man called again and, despite her fear, she looked at him, knowing that if she didn't, he would get mad. He seemed to approve, for his tone became slightly less cold, "Tell me, Zariel, Do you remember the woman that took care of you?"

Her heart skipped a beat and her eyes welled with tears at the memory. Gulping, she rolled her tongue in her mouth, wondering whether she still had the ability to enunciate words correctly. It had been so long since she'd seen another human that she'd pretty much resorted to barking instead of talking ever since Bo had been introduced –or rather, thrown into her life.

"Ma- Mayra?" she asked, just to be sure they were talking about _that_ woman.

The uncle smiled, which only made his expression even more sinister. "Good, you do remember her." He exchanged a look with his companion, "Tell me, Zariel… would you like to see her?"

Zariel's hand shot to her chest, as if to keep her heart from jumping out of her ribcage at the possibility of feeling her arms around her again. "Yes," she mumbled, a tear rolling down her cheek, "very, very, very much, please."

The tall, dark haired uncle nodded in approval, "Recite to me the rule you should follow at all times, first, if you can."

The words came out automatically, "The ShinRa family is the most important thing. Their lives are above my own. I live only to serve them until my last breath. Nothing else matters." Zariel found the words rolling out her tongue with ease. It was one of the first things the disembodied voice had taught her. And she believed every word.

"Very good, Zariel," the man commended, leaning forward on the table, "Do you believe in what you just said, though?"

She blinked, "Yes…?"

"Is that a question or an answer?" The man asked with an edge to his voice that made her fidget with the sleeve of her shirt. At her silence, he repeated impatiently, "Well? Do you believe it or not?"

"Yes," Zariel responded, this time with as much confidence as she could muster under the circumstances.

The man smiled again that cruel smile. "Good," he took the knife from the table and, holding it by the blade, offered it to her, "then prove it."

Zariel, confused and scared, took the knife and stared at it for a while, wondering just what they were expecting her to do to prove her words. Before she could ask, the second uncle spoke.

"Kill him," he pointed at the dog that was standing near her feet with teeth bared and fur ruffled, ready to protect her if the need aroused.

Her head snapped so fast that pain exploded in the back of her neck. "You want me to what?" her voice hitched at the last word. Already her hands were shaking beyond control.

"Boir is a threat to the ShinRa family, to prove your loyalty; you need to destroy that threat. Only if you do this, would you be allowed the reward of seeing Mayra again," the second uncle explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Zariel's throat dried and she felt her eyes sting with tears. Beads of fat sweat sluggishly ran down her temples. How could the temperature change so drastically? Not even when she had been running around had it felt so hot!

"B-but Bo…," she looked at him, at his almond puppy eyes, "he's a good dog, he would never do anything to hurt anyone, I promise! He wouldn't! He just wouldn't do that…"

"You would put the ShinRa family at risk for your selfishness?" the first man asked appalled.

Zariel felt something inside her recoil at the mere idea. She felt shame filling her soon after, threatening to make her fall to her knees and beg forgiveness. She wasn't quite sure where the alien sentiment had originated, she only knew that it was there, all encompassing and all unforgiving.

"B-but," a sob broke out of her throat and tears streamed down her face, "Where will he go? What will happen to him?" Another sob and then she asked what she truly wanted to know, the question that bothered her the most, "Will he… su-suffer?"

The second man leaned on his knees so that he was eye level with her and, in a gentler tone, he said, "It would be crueler to allow him to live, Zariel. In this world he will only find pain and he will only give pain. If you kill him, you'll not only keep the ShinRa family safe, but you would actually do Boir a favor. By plunging that knife into him, you'll show that you love him, for the next world is peaceful and beautiful. Life is, after all, only a game, Zariel. Nothing more."

Her emerald, cat-like eyes met his, "A game?"

The man nodded, "Only a game."

"So that means that killing is not wrong?" she asked, eager to embrace the hope he was offering.

The man nodded, "Only the killing of people such as the ShinRa family is wrong, everyone else is fair game."

Zariel nodded in understanding, feeling some of the pain that had been crushing her lifting. The voice had said something like this too, after all, hadn't it? Yes! She wasn't really going to hurt Bo, she was actually going to help him, to _save_ him from the pain that he would otherwise suffer in this world. Yes, this was only a game, like when they play tag! And then, when Bo was happy in the afterlife, she would see Mayra and she wouldn't be alone anymore!

Turning to Bo, she smiled down at the muscled boxer. The dog must have known that she would save him, for his tail whipped with the happiness of the absolution she was about to offer. She knelt on the floor in front of him, patted his side, hugged him tight… and then plunged her knife into the back of his neck again and again. Boir trashed in her arms for a while in what she assumed could only be excitement. Zariel smiled, happy that she had been the one to release him from the pain of this life, from the prison that was his existence. She hugged him until he stopped.

"Mayra will be here soon, Zariel," the first uncle said as he stood up and, following the second man, he disappear behind the door.

Some minutes later someone came to take the empty shell that was Boir away, leaving Zariel, dry blood coating her arms and clothes, to wait for her reward. She couldn't wait until Mayra arrived. She brought the red knife to her lips and kissed it for the gift of freedom it had the power to impart.

When Mayra came, the sadness of losing Boir magically disappeared. Mayra was just as nice as Zariel remembered her. She became her new teacher, substituting for the disembodied voice. Mayra would stay for most of the day with her, leaving at night to come back at first light.

Her physical training also started soon after at the hands of different 'masters'. At the end of every year, the uncles would come into the room and inform her of how her master had become a threat and her job was to finish him off. Though it had been difficult to kill the first and it had almost cost her her life, Zariel soon became an expert. By the third year and the third teacher released, she had become immune to the ache of cutting the emotional attachment.

By the end of her training, Zariel had been forced to kill her six masters, one per year. She became so strong and skilled, that the last one had taken her mere minutes and no wounds at all to dispatch. Throughout the entire span, of course, Mayra was there, helping her deal with the consequences of her deeds.

Naturally, she couldn't help but wonder why all those connected to her ended up betraying ShinRa. When once she'd asked Mayra this, she'd said that it was the corruption of the world that was to blame. She'd then added that it was precisely because of this, that she hadn't been allowed to go out yet. By staying inside this room, Zariel had actually been protected from the evil temptations of the outside! After this discovery, Zariel had become grateful for her isolation, a thing that she'd cursed in the past because she hadn't really understood it. Likewise, the respect she felt towards the ShinRa Corporation and the uncles that had been taking such good care of her increased tenfold.

When she turned sixteen, the uncles started visiting more often. For two years, Zariel had been allowed to go outside. Though at first she'd been scared by the temptations that could potentially pull her towards the evil side, she'd overcome the weakness and had done as was required. All around the globe, she'd succeeded in eliminating threats that were pointed out to her, saving the ShinRa family's life with every thrust and slash of her blades. She was unstoppable, tasting the victory of every game played, smiling broadly as she watched the light go out of her objective's eyes, knowing that she'd done them a favor, that she'd released them from their sins.

Life was, after all, nothing more than a game… and she _loved_ to play!

At the end of the second year, the uncles came again, this time before Myra. They sat at the usual table, took their usual seats yet requested what she'd least expected. Mayra was a _spy_, a threat to the ShinRa family that had to be dealt with. Zariel stared at the men for the longest time, part of her refusing to believe such talks, but in the end, as she had always, she accepted the responsibility of ensuring ShinRa's safety.

So it was that when Mayra stepped into her room, shortly after the uncles had left, Zariel greeted her with the widest, warmest smile she could muster before slashing her throat so viciously, that she'd almost beheaded her.

Despite the fact that she'd been a spy, Zariel was quick to hug the body tightly before it would crumple unbefitting on the ground. With care similar to when she'd released Boir, she gently placed the lifeless body flat on the floor. Expecting to see Mayra's eyes staring at her with peace or shock, she was surprised to find neither. Instead she found a look that displayed something else… something that looked like angry betrayal. It was this small detail that should have been insignificant, but which wasn't, what suddenly broke something inside her. In a split second the pillars of all that she'd believed wobbled uncertainly, making her wonder if what she was doing was really just 'playing a game'.

"What have I done?" she found herself asking, feeling the corners of her lips shaking, threatening to disperse the smile that had graced her face. Her sight blurred under the welling tears and it took all her self-control to keep them reigned in. Never before had she felt a hurt like this, it was as if someone was tugging viciously at her heart, trying to rip it from her very chest!

As if someone had been waiting for just that chip to appear on her armor, the wall opened and in came a woman with the meanest eyes Zariel had ever seen. She was sporting a white outfit not unlike her own, except that hers was clean whereas Zariel's was already marred by Mayra's blood.

The brunette smiled cruelly at her, seizing her up from under arched eyebrows. "Let's play," she said before launching herself at Zariel, twin blades held by tight fists. Had Zariel's skill not been as polished they were, her reaction time wouldn't have saved her. As it was, she moved out of the way and, in a second, started a dance with death herself.

"Why are you doing this? Who are you?" Zariel asked, surprised to have found someone that matched her skill thrust for thrust.

"I am a ShinRa guardian… and for your crimes against the family, I will release you from the burden of your shameful life," the woman responded methodically.

Zariel stopped fighting. The pronouncement had taken her off guard. How many times had she spoken those same words to other people? Hell, had she not just spoken them to Mayra right before she'd slit her throat? Had she not spoken them to each and every one of those masters who'd taught her how to fight? Had she not been loyal to the ShinRa family to the point of destroying those she cared about? Was this truly then just a game and her time was up?

"W-what are you talking about?" she asked weakly, frighten by the fact that she herself had heard this very question before, ripped out of the lips of every person she'd killed!

"Game over," the woman promised as she prepared to impart the finishing blow. Zariel had made it easy, she was frozen in place by the underlying story that was being unraveled slowly by her dazed mind. Everything seemed so confusing! She wasn't sure of anything anymore. What was real anyways? Was her life a lie, a farce? What was her purpose if not to protect the family? Was she a player in this game or had she been played all along?

Just then, the overhead white light changed to red and sirens began wailing in distress all around, but Zariel barely heard them. She didn't understand. Nothing made sense. What was this? Who was she really, if not a guardian? What was the purpose of her life? Was she a game? Was she the game? Was all this unreal and in her head?

The blade came closer and as Zariel watched the sharp, silver surface of it, all she could see were all those blank, dead faces that she'd smiled to. All she could think about was Mayra's eyes and Boir's tail whipping back and forth.

And then the woman was dead and there was silence and, through her tears, Zariel saw a man so beautiful that he took her breath away and shamed her at the same time.

"It's alright," he said in a tone so gentle that he ripped more sobs out of her throat. Nothing was okay. Nothing would ever be okay. Zariel, understanding what she'd done, screamed and cried and fell to her knees, clawing at the pants of this angel and asking for forgiveness that nobody could grant, not anymore.

And then he touched her and, like that, everything was gone. All the pain and the memories and the deaths and the lies… and she was seven again, playing tag with Bo… except that she could fight and kill as easily as she could play. But at least everything, most of it, seemed okay.

Zariel suddenly started giggling uncontrollably. For some reason, the body of the brunette sprawled atop a pool of her own blood was quite an… amusing sight. Zariel couldn't stop looking at how pretty her white clothes looked as they absorbed the red color and made it its own.

**-o0o-**

**Tifa Lockhart **snapped out of the memory feeling disoriented and worn-out. She shook her head, trying to shed Zariel's skin from her, knowing that what she'd experience had been the life of someone who'd been broken by cruel people. Hell, she could still feel the ugly head of insanity wriggling inside her, trying to hold tight even as Tifa pushed it aside. But pushed she did until it was gone, leaving an echo behind as a vivid memory stolen from a corpse.

Tifa gasped with something between relief and desperation as she finally chased the last vestiges of that phantom away. Now that she'd seen Zariel under a different light, Tifa was having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that she'd help extinguish her life, twisted as it had been. Replacing the rise of insanity came galloping a sadness that threatened to overwhelm her.

Unwilling to fall prey to the ambush of emotions, she willed herself to stay strong. This was neither the time nor the place to feel bad for someone that had been trying to kill her and all those she cared about. It didn't matter that she'd been a victim, Zariel had in the end killed a lot of people and for that there was no excuse. With that in mind, she forced her heart out of the driver's seat, making reason override everything else. Yes, she still maintained enough clarity of mind to realize that this was indeed no time to feel empathy towards an enemy. She was in the basement again, in a mansion that was burning with a person who, even if he didn't look the part, was still a foe.

Wine, tired eyes zeroed on the silver haired man standing beside her, lost in his own recollections. Tifa soon found that even if she could ignore her sadness and the regret therein, she could not make herself hate this man! For this man had given Zariel some release, small and perverse as it had been, by making her forget the deeds she'd committed. And though she knew it in her core that it was still wrong, she couldn't blame him or think him evil for what he'd done. He'd spared her pain and… wasn't that what she herself had done to Cloud? Hadn't she kept from him who he was if only to spare him from what she'd considered unnecessary pain?

"She wasn't perfect," Raphael acknowledged, almost as if he'd heard her thoughts and Tifa had to wondered if he was just bloody good at reading people or if he truly had the power to bury himself into her mind. The last thought was so disconcerting, that she dared not dismiss the idea just yet. "But she wasn't born a monster… she was _turned_ into one by the people you, Tifa Lockhart, insist on protecting."

Tifa scowled at him and at his ridiculous belief. "I'm not protecting them, you must know that! I would never condone what was done to her! Never! If I had known, I would have fought hard to stop it, make no mistake on it!"

Raphael shook his head as if he thought that she was being played, just like Zariel had been. Tifa bit back a brusque comment, knowing that it would be difficult to make a better case when the death of Zariel must still be fresh on his mind.

With four wide strides, the new leader of Jenova's minions swallowed the distance between them and pointed out to her, still in that gentle tone of his, "You are collaborating with ShinRa even as we speak, are you not?"

Tifa's first instinct was to snap at him. To scream her explanation at the top of her lungs, as if by saying it louder she would be able to make him see reason. But something inside kept her falling prey to her emotions and losing her temper. Maybe it was the odd fear that if she relinquished reason, if only for an instant, the insanity that she'd shared with Zariel would slip into her again. She shuddered at the thought, at the memory.

Feeling suddenly very exhausted, she heaved a long sigh and opted for matching his tone, "I fought ShinRa, Raphael. I fought them for destroying not only my hometown, but other people's life. People I didn't know but wished to help. I joined avalanche for that very reason, to destroy the part of ShinRa that was rotten. And we did. The ShinRa that hurt Zariel is long gone. Nothing is black or white, remember? Some of those who worked for ShinRa were innocent of the crimes committed. You can't possibly blame them for what others did just as you couldn't blame Zariel for following orders."

Raphael smiled sadly, looking at her as though she was as lost a cause as Zariel's mind had been. He shook his head once in silent admonition. Slow but resolute, he reached out to her. Despite knowing the dangers involved in having an enemy in such close proximity, especially one that had the power of Jenova at his disposal, Tifa stood her ground. She fixed her gaze on his, not daring to blink even when she felt his digits plunging into her hair. He took a thick lock of auburn hair that had been framing her face and tucked it behind an ear.

They stayed like that for a while, just looking at one another, with Raphael's fingers still holding the lock of hair between two of his fingers. He smiled that soft, sad smile and, before her reflexes could kick in, he'd lean forward and, without a word, planted a chaste, lingering kiss on the corner of her mouth. Tifa's eyes widened and her body became as stiff as a bow. She dared not move, confused by his bizarre actions mostly because she couldn't understand them. She didn't know whether to feel, in a weird way, cherished or threatened by the unexpected action. Shiva, this man was more dangerous than she'd thought. This was all so friggin' confusing that she felt unbalanced and at a loss, as though someone had shook the ground under her feet just for the heck of it!

"Hurry, Tifa," he whispered as he straightened and turned away from her. He put some welcomed distance between them, before a white long wing with two shorter silver ones sprung out of the right side of his back. It never ceased to amaze Tifa how swiftly a man could transform into a beautiful, but deadly, angel. With a parting smile thrown over a shoulder Raphael added, "It would be a shame for a creature such as you to meet the same end as Zariel." After that, he was gone, leaving in his wake a weak whirlwind of white and silver feathers.

Tifa pushed the confusion and guilt -at allowing him to so aptly control the situation- aside and got back to business. As soon as Raphael had gone, the fire had resumed its normal pace. No, that was not it at all. It was more like the flames, once unleashed, had come back with a vengeance, quickening their consumption of wood, as if hoping to make up for the time when they'd been held by the slow spell.

Cursing and doing her best to keep away from the uncontrollable beast, Tifa managed to reach Rie –who despite their predicament, was still fighting the shadows inside her nightmare. With one look at the exit, Tifa took in the proximity of the flames. She felt sweat pooling on the back of her neck in apprehension. The only thing she could do was feverishly hope they would make it out before being locked in.

Refocusing her attention on Rie, she placed two fingers on the side of her neck. Tifa closed her eyes and checked her pulse, expecting and fearing to find something strange in it. Thankfully, apart from finding a quick and rhythmic pace to it –which was to be expected given her state—all seemed okay. Satisfied, she fisted her hands on the collar of her short, black jacket and tried to wake her, only to end up thrown across the room by a force she hadn't perceived or anticipated. Tifa crashed with such force against a shelf that it tumbled backwards with a groan. The flames that had been dancing behind it quickly jumped onto the old wood, sliding towards the important books it held, eager to eat them up and turn them to ash.

Alerted by a lick of a flame on her forearm, she spun off the shelf before she was consumed with it. Crawling into the center of the room, where the flames had not reached yet, Tifa fought to regain the wind that had been knocked from her. With a groan and a crack of her back, she staggered to her feet as quickly as she was able to. In a half-crouch she inspected the room, paying particular attention to the darkest corners, waiting for whatever had attacked her to come out of hiding. But there was nothing. She sensed nothing.

Frowning, she wondered if she'd imagined what had happened, but a glanced down show evidence that something had indeed attacked her. Tifa touched the claw marks on her abdomen gingerly. Whatever had left those four marks behind had been strong enough to have ripped part of her vest, but weak enough to have shallowly marked her skin.

"Damn it, where are you? I've no time for this!" she cursed, scanning the room for the second time, feeling beads of sweat running down her spine, making her head spin a bit with the beginning of lightheadedness.

It worried her enormously that she had not seen whatever had hit her, but knowing that being overly careful was a luxury she couldn't afford, Tifa forced the fear aside. With a trot, she made her way back towards Rie, gripped her shoulders, and shook her roughly until the woman started blinking out of her stupor. Impatient by how long it was taking Rie to regain her composure, Tifa slapped her –none too gently—a couple of times to help her along the way.

"Tifa," Rie greeted drowsily, rubbing her red cheek before putting a finger to each of her temples. Tifa guessed that, having been in the burning building for longer, Rie had already fallen prey to a headache courtesy of either the smoke inhalation or the increasing warmth. Unfortunately for Tifa, this also meant that the scientist still looked as if she'd just been thrown into a different dimension. She was just about to slap Rie once more, when she noticed her mismatch eyes inspecting the room in utter bafflement. "The room's on fire," she turned to Tifa, as if she held all the answers, "Why?"

Tifa was torn between rolling her eyes and laughing. It was not only her skill at pointing out the obvious that made her lips finally curl but, more than that, she was glad that Rie was okay. For a moment there, she'd feared that Raphael had not been honest and had really done something to tamper with the young girl's mind.

"W-what ha…?" Rie stuttered, unable to finish her sentence as, with eyes as wide as a Grangalan's, she hooked a finger in one of the claw marks on her vest. As if in a trance she pulled at it weakly. Shiva only knew what was going through her mind, but she seemed to lose a couple of shades alongside her voice.

"Whatever did this is gone… I think." Rie didn't look very reassured so Tifa decided to go about this in a different way, "Anyways, we have bigger things to worry about. Come on, we need to get out of here now."

At her lack of movement, Tifa took Rie's hand and pulled at it for emphasis. Rie snapped out of her stupor and slid off the table. Content, Tifa scanned their surroundings warily. She didn't know how much time they had, but she wasn't eager to find out how long the structure would hold. She wasn't sure that being buried alive was much better than being burnt alive and, at any rate, she would much rather stay alive and kicking.

Praying that Ifrit would spare them an early welcome into his realm, Tifa started in the direction of the door. Already the fire was spreading towards the exit, flirting with it in a most unwanted way.

Rie followed her lead only to suddenly pull away when they'd just crossed the damn exit, "Wait! My bag!"

Tifa cursed when her hand slipped away like an oily fish. She attempted to stop Rie before she crossed back into the second library, but the girl was faster and Tifa was thus forced deeper into the living hell that had become the basement. Before she'd even reached the back room, she spotted Rie returning. Somehow, she'd managed to get back to the table and retrieve her bag in record time. Tifa guessed the adrenaline was responsible for that. Still, she couldn't help scowling at her before snatching her hand, her grip as tight as a lock.

"Don't do that again, Rie, you hear? We can't afford being stupid and reckless, I will not have it!" Tifa snapped, pressing her pace and only slowing down when they were out of the library. She knew that they'd barely made it, for the snakes of flames barred the exit seconds after.

"I understand, Tifa Lockhart, but these books are important," Rie pointed out, patting the contents of the bag.

"It's not more important than your life!" Tifa responded sternly, feeling like tossing the bloody bag in the fire if only to make her point, but of course she didn't. Tifa knew that, despite her anger and her disapproval at the moment, those books could indeed hold valuable information that could potentially give them the key to winning the war.

Happy at least to have the last say, Tifa led the way again but was soon forced to stop in order to rethink which way to take. The fire had, at this point, spread throughout the entire basement, roasting the bodies of the monsters she'd come across on her way in.

"Do you know what happened here?" she pointed at the bodies with a finger, as she tried to spot a break on the wall of dancing fire.

"Someone must have killed them," Rie offered, the puzzlement of her tone indicating that she'd failed to grasp the underlying question.

Tifa sighed, "Of course, stupid of me to have failed to see that."

"Yes," Rie agreed, prompting Tifa to glare at her.

"Come on, this way," she ordered, pulling the girl behind her much more roughly than necessary.

By the time they reached the stairs, Tifa could hardly breathe. The smoke they'd inhale was making them both cough and struggle that much for the next breath. Tifa tried to think positive and remain calm, but the blurring of her sight made her fear that she would pass out before reaching the exit. The flames barring the stairs, of course, added to her load of worries.

"I don't think going in there is a good idea," Rie said, pointing at the stairs that would lead them up into the mansion and to the exit. "We won't make it if we go in."

Tifa ignored her and rattled her brain for an idea, any idea really. After a short eternity, a thought occurred to her. It was, of course, a reckless, stupid and possibly even terrible idea, but at this point she had nothing to lose and everything to gain. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and if this was not one of those times, then Tifa didn't know what was. Committing to the decision, she promptly set about making it happen, hoping that the idea would not come back to bite her in the ass.

_Here goes nothing, _was her last thought as she let go of Rie's hand to step closer to the cracking flames. She closed her eyes, ignored whatever Rie was saying, pressed her fists together and cleared her mind of everything.

"**Hail the serpent of the sea, upheaval of chaos**," Tifa called, feeling the cool sensation of one of the materia equipped on her gloves coursing through her, rising in her chest, flooding her senses, "**come forth… Leviathan!"**

**-o0o-**

**Sephiroth Crescent **waited with barely contained patience inside the Shera's cargo area with a silent Genesis, a fired up Barret and a brooding Cloud. Though he was grateful that Cid had arrived when he did and helped tilt the balance in their favor, Sephiroth did not appreciate the extra stress this brought. As soon as the new AVALANCHE had forced Uriel to order his companions to retreat before they could do good on their promise of avenging Zariel, Sephiroth had found himself face to face with Cloud Strife.

Brushing aside his concern from having found them immersed in a fierce battle, the swordsman was quick to go straight to the point. "Where's Tifa?" he'd asked, scanning his surroundings while allowing Aerith to set to work on patching the two former SOLDIERS as much as she was able to before they brushed her efforts aside to get moving.

In the short ride it had taken to get back to Nibelheim, the blond swordsman had not stop shooting him disapproving looks, probably at what he considered had been a bad choice on Sephiroth's part.

Sephiroth, meanwhile, did his best to stop himself from strangling Tifa's childhood friend. It wasn't as if he'd been thrilled to let Tifa run, headfirst, into a dangerous situation. The heart of the matter was that even if he'd wanted nothing more than to keep Tifa secure by his side, she wouldn't have permitted it. For someone who claimed to know the martial artist so well, Cloud was surely either blind to that side of hers or he truly did not know her at all.

The creaking of the Shera and the sound of the doors in the cargo area preparing to open, signaled that they'd finally landed. Sephiroth hurried outside as soon as the opening was big enough to let him through, the other three warriors silently in tow. They'd landed just outside the city, so Sephiroth pushed his pace, ignoring the concerned questions and looks from the citizens, as he led the way towards the mansion which –to his dismay—the rain had been unable to put off.

The first thing he noticed when he reached the building was Vincent half-lying half-sitting on the ground, looking human and truly exhausted. Sephiroth Crescent had no idea how much of the blood coating him was his, but he doubted –or hoped?- that he'd left his enemy any better.

"Where's Tifa?" he asked as soon as he was within hearing distance. Sephiroth was trying very hard to ignore the sense of panic that originated from her disappearance coupled with Vincent's bloody appearance. After all, this was not a warrior to take lightly and, given what he did to Zariel, he doubted that just about anyone could have brought him to his knees in such a fashion.

The wounded gunslinger pointed at the mansion while he struggled to his feet between muffled groans. Barret, who'd been uncharacteristically silent while waiting for his answer, stepped forward to come to his aid. With one swift movement, he had Vincent on his feet –or rather, had him trying to find his balance by the tip of his pointy boots.

"There was a warrior waiting for us here," he began, wriggling out of Barret's clutch to be able to touch ground more solidly. "He engaged me after telling Tifa she could go inside." His hands fisted with what Sephiroth could read as deep regret, "I know I should have stopped her, but Chaos…" he looked away, towards the mansion that had been his prison not that long ago. His jaw tightened, clearly not very happy with himself or his excuse. "Tifa went in to get Rie." He finished weakly, allowing Barret to lead him away and back to the ship.

Before they'd given more than a couple of steps, Barret halted and, over his shoulder, gave him a look that kept Sephiroth rooted in place. It wasn't a glare, but rather a plea he'd never received before. "Fin'er Sephiroth… brin' 'er back."

Sephiroth's only response was a solemn nod that he hoped conveyed the promise his voice would not have been able to make in that precise moment. Barret, thankfully, was satisfied with that because taking most of the weight that was Vincent –who seemed to be barely able to keep from slipping into unconsciousness-, went back to his task.

Sephiroth Crescent cursed silently as he switched his gaze to the smoking building, mentally kicking himself for allowing Tifa out of his sight. Hadn't he vowed never to let harm touch her? Hadn't he told everyone, including Minerva herself, that he would protect her with his very life?

His gloved hand tightened around the hilt of masamune. It took all his willpower to force his mind to quell the concern that Vincent's words had rouse, but he did it. As soon as emotions were out of the way, he focused on the one thing that stuck out like a piece of gold against a pile of coal. Why would the enemy allow Tifa a free pass? It made no tactical sense. She was, after all, the leader of the amassed force that was opposing them. If it was him, he would have ordered all his men –no matter the rank—to prioritize the disposal of such a threat.

The last thought was what finally broke the dam that was keeping panic at bay. What if that was what they'd done? What if inside they'd laid a trap for Tifa? What if they'd wanted her to suffer by burning her alive, much like they'd done to Zariel?

"They're fine," Genesis told him, gripping his shoulder as if to give reassurance. But looking at him, Sephiroth could tell that he wasn't as sure as his words had suggested. If anything, he seemed to be waiting for him to agree in order to be reassured. And much as he wanted to do just that, Sephiroth could only muster a weak nod.

If something happened to her… what would he do? Odin, he couldn't think like this! He shook his head and squared his shoulders. Nothing was set in stone, there was still a chance that she was okay and he desperately latched onto that hope if only to maintain his sanity. Mind made up, he hurried towards the burning building, his own wounds and pains forgotten as he prayed to all the spirits out there to spare her any and every pain.

The flames licked out of the doorway, slapping him with a hand of warmth that made it difficult to breathe as he approached. Cloud and Genesis where right behind him, shadowing him, neither deterred by the threat of the living hell they were about to run into. And head into it was what he was about to do, when he felt more than saw something stirring in the mouth of the building. He slid to a halt and, barely having time, screamed a warning, "Get out of the way!" before jumping aside to let a serpent of water combined with raw power through.

Sephiroth followed the guardian's path as it flew towards the sky and burst into rain, the fat luminescent drops mingled with the ones shed by the hanging, gray clouds. The SOLDIER spun back, hope renewed and heart leaping into his throat, when he heard her victorious voice.

"Yes! We made it!" Tifa managed to cheer before doubling over as a fit of coughs seized her. She was still holding Rie's hand and slowly, she forced her along to put more distance between them and the mansion.

Sephiroth let go of a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He let the sweet relief of seeing her wash away some of his concern, enough to stop himself from going to her and crushing her with a hug.

"Are you alright?" he asked her as he met her, inspecting her from head to toe, glad to find that she didn't look badly hurt at the very least. "What happened in there?"

Tifa waved away his concern with a hand, bending over with hands on knees as she coughed some more. He could tell by the wheezing sound that she was having trouble breathing. He did not like that one bit.

"Come on, we'll get you some oxygen," Sephiroth offered, scooping her into his arms before she could protest and racing back towards the ship.

"W-when did they get here?" she asked, pausing every two words to try to get some clean air into her. Odin, she was so pale! Sephiroth didn't like how weak her voice sounded either, but he figured that was better than no voice at all.

"Not long ago, now stop talking and stop worrying, you'll get a report soon enough," he told her as they went inside, meeting Cid and Aerith along the way.

"Holy! Tifa, what happened?" Aerith asked, looking from her to Rie, who –despite weak protests- was being carried by Genesis two steps behind. Before he could answer, Red XIII interrupted.

"Aerith, Vincent needs a healer," he informed after making sure that none of them would be in more urgent need of Aerith's skills. In answer to his unvoiced question, Sephiroth nodded his approval before turning to Cid after the other two had left.

"Oxygen tanks?" he asked the pilot, knowing that there was no need for explanations. Cid signaled them to follow him, all the while cursing the bloody fire, the damn Jenova warriors and everything else that had dared mess with Teef's life. Sephiroth would have smiled at the man's parental exasperation, if not for the fact he'd been scared out of his wits not too long ago.

Sephiroth allowed himself to relax only after he'd set Tifa on one of the beds in the small infirmary and Cid had strapped an oxygen mask to her face. Absent the adrenaline that had kept him going, he crumbled into a nearby chair. He was so exhausted that he was having trouble keeping his lids from dropping.

He came immediately alert, though, when he felt Tifa's hand gripping his. He turned to her and couldn't help the smile that automatically parted his lips. Odin, he didn't want to even think how he would have felt if something had happened to her. She meant everything to him and he doubted that he would have been able to live on without her.

"Better?" he asked her, leaning on his knees in order to better comb back her hair. She nodded. It was as he was passing his fingers through her hair a second time, that he noticed something tucked behind her ear. Frowning, he grabbed the item between two fingers and pulled it out, careful to keep it out of Tifa's view for now. To his confusion, it was a flower bud the likes of which he had seen before but couldn't quite remember where.

For some odd reason, the appearance of such an unusual thing on Tifa's person, made both anger and dread rise in him, dancing to a tune which he had not set. Indeed, much as he wanted to discard the bloody plant, he couldn't help regarding it as nothing less than a threat and, perhaps, a clue. And yet, he knew that he could be overreacting. For all he knew, Tifa had placed that bud there herself before the battle had commenced.

His mind was quick to brush aside the explanation, even as he came up with it. No. It didn't feel _right_. It just didn't make sense. He drank every part of her when she'd met him on Mt. Nibel, he would have noticed if she'd been wearing the bud. Plus, it just didn't make sense for her to place a bud and not a rose in her hair, it was not as if such a thing could enhance her beauty anyways.

More than ever before, Sephiroth ached to know what had happened inside Nibelheim's Mansion. But he knew that if he asked, she would do her best to answer and right now he didn't want to add more to her worries. The important thing now was for her to get better. In fact, for the first time since he'd met her, he actually wanted her to not talk and concentrate instead in breathing in the clean oxygen. So for her sake, and by extension his, he pushed his curiosity aside.

"What's wrong?" She asked, moving the mask aside to speak. Sephiroth instinctively hid the bud inside a tight fist. There was no point in worrying her with this. The only thing he wanted her to concentrate on was on feeling better and that was it. Everything else, he would deal with for her.

"I'm fine," he said, kissing her temple to distract her from his slip. Slowly, he placed the bud inside an inner pocket of his coat while careful to keep her eyes on him. That done, he took the mask from her slacken fingers and covered her nose and mouth with it again. His fingers caressed her cheek gently before confiding to her part of the truth, "I was just thanking whoever had been watching over you for keeping you safe, is all."

Tifa smiled beautifully. She went for her mask but he stopped her and shook his head in admonition. Ignoring him, she pushed his hand away and took the mask off, "You look tired, Seph. As much as I would rather you stay with me, you should go get some proper rest."

Sephiroth crossed his arms and leaned back on his seat, pretending that it was the most comfortable he'd ever been, "This will do fine. I'm not planning on letting you out of my sight anytime soon, Tifa."

Tifa caught his lie and shook her head. "We are in the Shera," she said, raising an arm as if to introduce him to the ship. She let the arm drop, "I doubt anything will happen to me here." She put the mask back on and took some breaths before adding, "It's stupid for you to rest on such an uncomfortable chair. And don't try to tell me it's not," she said, pointing a finger at his nose. The scold earned her some chest wrenching coughs, so she put the mask on, took some breaths and, despite his protests, took it off again to assure him, "I'll be fine. Don't worry."

Sephiroth, though, would have none of it and he had no qualms about letting her know. "Last time you left my side for merely twenty minutes, and in that time managed to get yourself almost burned alive," his voice sounded harsh to him, but he couldn't help it. The thought of almost losing her was painful. He doubted that he could have remained sane had that been the case.

Tifa looked surprised at that. He'd assumed it was at his tone and he was about to apologize for it, but she spoke what had really taken her unawares, "Wait. You said twenty minutes?"

The former SOLDIER nodded, understanding flooding him before he could think more about it. He knew, after all, how easy it was to lose track of time when adrenaline was coursing through the veins. "Something wrong?" he prompted when frowning, she seemed to withdrawal into her thoughts.

She snapped to attention, shook her head and smiled at him sheepishly, "I guess I must have lost track of time. It sure felt longer to me."

Sephiroth shrugged, glad that it had been just as he'd assumed. "Understandable." He took the mask from her and placed it where it belonged. Leaning forward, he pecked her temple and said, "Now keep the mask on and get some rest, you look just as tired yourself. I'll be here when you wake."

Perhaps knowing that she could not win the fight, she sighed, took his hand in hers and did as told. Sephiroth was just glad that she had not resumed her efforts to get him to rest somewhere else. As he'd told her, he was truly not yet ready to leave her side, he didn't think he'll ever be ready and he hoped he was not forced to check if he was.

**-o0o-**

**Genesis Rhaspodos **stared at Rie with mixed feelings. She was sitting on the bed in front of him, twisting the white covers he'd pulled on her lap and pretty much avoiding any eye contact with him. It irked him but, more than that, he recognized that it _pained_ him as well.

It was awkward for him to be with her after what had happened, but he couldn't help it. It was precisely because of what had happened that he could not leave. Frustrated, he glanced around the spartan room for something to keep his mind from thinking back to what had happened two days ago, when he'd confided to both himself and Vincent what he really felt for the scientist.

Near his feet, he finally noticed the bag she'd been clutching when she'd come out. It was dirty with soot and grime but he couldn't help pulling it into his lap. He felt her mismatched gaze upon him as he opened the flap to reveal the contents. Only three books were inside alongside the scanners they'd been using to photograph important information they'd found.

Pulling the books out, he felt his heart somersaulting when he realized that one of them was the copy of Loveless he'd given her. He'd found the copy in a small store of used books in Nibelheim and had bought it for her. He was touched to find that she'd gone to the trouble to bring it back with her, even as the mansion burned around her.

The other book was the one Reeve had given her. It was called "The adventures of Tonberry Cato". It was a book filled with stories for children, meant to teach them valuable lessons with each adventure. Genesis smiled when he saw it, remembering that it had been this book what had, in a way, brought them together.

_He was sitting across Sephiroth and Tifa, drinking coffee the latter had prepared as an excuse to have a break from reading, leaving only Vincent –who'd declined the invitation—hunched over a journal in the basement. Rie, for her part, had gone out to run some errands and had not yet returned. Genesis was just contemplating going to search for her, when his phone rang. He saw both Tifa's and Sephiroth's eyebrows raising as he pulled out his PHS from the pocket in his pants._

"_Hello."_

"_Is this Genesis Rhaspodos?" asked a feminine voice over a raucous sound followed by the screams of someone he recognized. _

"_What's happened?" he asked, already standing up and gathering his coat. Sephiroth and Tifa, worried by the edge to his tone, had gotten to their feet as well. _

"_We found your card on Miss. Rie's bag… I… ah… I think you ought to come pick her up, if you can," the woman was having trouble talking to him while trying to calm Rie down. "We're in 1654 Rockslide, Nibelheim."_

"_Thank you for calling, I'll be there soon," he answered, scooping the keys to the car in order to get there faster. He could not begin to conceive what trouble Rie had gotten herself into, but by her screams, he could tell she was pretty scared and that did not settled all that well with him. _

"_What's happened?" Tifa asked with a hand on his arm, "Is it Rie?" _

_Genesis waved her concern away. "It seems she got into some trouble of sorts. It's probably nothing," he was quick to add, "I'll go check it out. You guys go back to the research. I'll call you if I need your help."_

"_Do you at least have our numbers, Genesis?" Sephiroth asked, and if he didn't know any better, he would think the older man was slightly hurt that Genesis hadn't given him his phone number. _

"_I took the liberty of getting your phone numbers and even including my own in each of your handsets," he said with a polite smile. _

_Tifa's eyebrows rose almost to her hairline as she pulled her phone out. Sure enough, she must have seen his contact there because she frowned with suspicion, "When did you-?"_

"_You guys were busy and had left your phones unattended," Genesis explained offhandedly, and before they could say something else, he'd stepped inside the car, leaving them to their mortified bafflement. _

_As soon as he arrived at the address, he felt his heart beat racing. It was a small hospital in the middle of Nibelheim. Hospitals never bode well… Feeling grim, he parked near the entrance and made his way inside with a sprint. _

"_Mr. Rhaspodos?" a middle aged nurse standing near the door asked. Upon his confirmation, she immediately led him down a hall and into a warm, cozy room. There he found the woman he'd talked to on the phone leaning back on her desk with arms crossed, looking perplexedly at a figure sitting on the ground with arms around her legs and face hidden. Genesis felt a mixture of relief at finding her fine and concern at hearing despair building with each sob. _

_Having noticed them, the woman approached, her lips parting into a tight smile. _

"_What happened?" he asked her, keeping his tone civil and aloof. _

"_I…I don't quite know. She came here talking about some kind of heart sickness, we ran some test but when we found nothing wrong, we told her so. Then, all of a sudden, she –I don't know, she became desperate in having us stop the pain," the woman said, at a loss as to how to properly explain what must have been Rie's tantrum. _

_Genesis nodded, not sure himself yet what had happened, but confident he could find out with the right approach. "Can you give me a moment with her?" he asked the women who, by how quick they complied, must have been eager to get out. _

_Left alone, Genesis moved towards Rie and crouched down. He made sure to be close enough to provide comfort if needed, but far enough to keep her from feeling uncomfortable. "Hey, Rie," he called softly, "What's the matter? Are you alright?"_

_She brought her face out of hiding and the look she leveled on him…dazzled him. Her cheeks and the point of her nose were blushed from having been crying, and her eyes were puffy and glistered as they kept shedding more tears. Genesis had never seen something that wrenched his heart so powerfully before and yet, even though she was in pain, he was certain he'd never seen anything more beautiful. _

"_What is it?" he asked in a whisper that trembled with an instinctive emotional response he's never had before, save the last time he'd seen his parents. It broke his heart to see her like this, but she made it beat with newfound life as well. _

"_They won't help me!" she said, and he noticed then that she had something lying flat on her lap. It looked like a book, but he couldn't be sure. _

"_What do you mean nobody wants to help you?" he asked gently, inching forward a tiny bit and intertwining his fingers to keep from reaching out and, possibly, making her withdrawal back into her protective cocoon of reason. _

_She twisted so that she was on her knees. The book –with a big picture of an amiable-looking toneberry cartoon on the cover- slid down her lap and to the floor. He thought it an odd object to be found in such a situation, but he dared not comment upon it just yet. He returned his gaze to her face just as she placed one hand atop her chest, her digits gripping the fabric of the white shirt beneath her open jacket._

"_I'm in pain… my heart… it hurts and they won't help me! They say is nothing, but it hurts! It hurts!" she insisted, closing her eyes to squeeze out more of those tears that to him looked like the purest of all pearls. _

_Though he was confused by her words, he decided to go about it like he'd been taught in SOLDIER. "When did this pain started?"_

_She seemed grateful that he wasn't just brushing away her words like the rest probably did. That, at least, was a good sign. "A-an hour ago, but it's been building. I have been ignoring it for a while, but it had been there before. I'm sure of it!"_

_Genesis nodded solemnly, "What brought you here now, then?" _

"_It's too much…," she said, losing her voice at the last word and bending over, as if to protect her heart from the pain that had laid siege to it. _

_By this point, Genesis was starting to have an idea of what he was dealing with, but there was still one more question he needed answered, "What were you doing when the pain intensified, Rie?"_

"_I was…," she took out her PHS and looked at it as though it was an object of evil. "I was trying to communicate with Reeve… but he said he didn't have the time. He's been busy lately…," a sob interrupted her and she turned those glistering, big eyes on him, "But this is important!" Unconsciously she gathered the book to her chest and hug it tightly, "I will never have friends if I don't learn this…" _

_Genesis had been right. The pain she was experiencing was heartache and, as such, could not be so easily cured. Having trouble understanding emotions, it wasn't that strange for her to have assumed there was something physically wrong with her. After all, an emotional wound felt just as bad as a physical one, with the added pain of having no medicine to cure it. _

_Unable to hold back longer, he reached out and pulled her into his arms. She came willingly, her hands grabbing fistfuls of his coat as she buried her face on his chest, crying even more fiercely once he'd tightened his hold. He sat on the floor and let her cry until her heart's content, knowing that allowing the emotions to run their flow would decrease the pain. With one hand he rubbed her back while with the other he combed her black, locks back. Slowly but surely, she began to settle, her tears stopped and, with it, her sobs. _

"_Feeling better?" he asked, to which she nodded, releasing his coat from her white knuckled fists. _

"_I don't understand…" she said, leaning her head on his shoulder and bringing the book to her lap again. _

"_Is this what you need to learn?" he asked, taking the book from her limp grasp. He could recall with ease once confronted with this object, how his mom used to read him this same book, back before ShinRa had taken him away to begin his training. _

"_Reeve told me that if I didn't learn from this book, then nobody would want to be my friend. He used to read it with me, helping me understand it, everyday for at least an hour… but lately he'd had no time. I called him to ask if we could have a lesson on the phone, but he… I don't know what to do," frustration marred her voice and she slapped a hand to the cover, "I don't get it! It makes no sense to me! I've been trying, but I can't understand it on my own! I just can't!" _

_Genesis hushed her before she started crying again. Then, when he knew she was settled, he pushed her a bit in order to better look at her face. He brushed a tear aside and said, "This is no problem. I know this book, perhaps better than Reeve himself, I'll just teach you instead. Will that make you feel better?" _

_Her eyes widened and he saw gratitude in her mismatched depths. It was so simple a thing that when she smiled at him, he felt himself blushing. How bizarre, that someone like him would still be able to blush like a schoolboy at something as simple as a smile. Unable to help it, he grinned, welcoming the latest challenge fate had presented him with. _

Genesis smiled lopsidedly at the memory. It had been from then onwards that he'd dedicated not one, but two hours every day to read with her, explaining why Tonberry Cato –he hated the name, by the way- would do one thing or the other. Very soon, he'd found himself looking forward to that time, to seeing her eyes widened in wonder or her face scrunch down in a frown or even her lips curl in a smile at finally understanding one thing or another.

After a while, he'd gotten her the copy of Loveless and they'd also started reading from it. Apart from the play, the book contained different poems and those he'd struggled to help her with the most. He soon discovered, however, that the best way for her to understand metaphors was by helping her experience them instead of just reading them.

So it was that if they read a poem that talked about how hair felt like silk, he would give her a piece of said fabric to touch. Fired up by his success, he started reading ahead in order to get the necessary items to help her understand the next poem.

And so that fateful day came when everything changed, and he noticed that hard as he tried -which wasn't that hard at all, truth be told- he could never be truly satisfied with being only her teacher. That day, he'd decided to end the lesson with one of his favorite poems. On the last verse, the poet described his love towards a maiden 'like fire burning inside a thousand suns'.

_Genesis had expected Rie –like many times before—to take it literally and launch into a long speech about the improbability of the poet even understanding what he was writing. Instead, she'd asked a question that had baffled him._

"_Does this mean… love hurts?"_

_He tried explaining to her what it meant but she was unable to fully grasp its significance. Genesis knew that in this case touching the fire of a sun, even if it was possible, would not help in clearing her doubt –if anything, she would make sure never to experience such a painful thing again. So he did the only thing he thought would help –or was it the only thing he actually wanted to do? _

_Whatever it was, he'd ended up leaning towards her and capturing her lips with his in a chaste kiss. And though he'd planned on leaving it at that, his desire had kicked it, pushing aside all other thoughts until he could no longer think, only feel. And what he felt was her soft lips under his, lips that were adding pressure to his, that were mimicking his, that were not being pulled away, but which stayed as if in eagerness to learn this as well. _

_He felt heat rising within him, which he found odd, for never before had a kiss an innocent as this felt as exciting. He pushed a bit more and, before he knew it, he was biting and pulling at her lower lip. He reached out to grab the back of her neck when he heard her moan, steadying her as he prepared to teach her more. _

"_You want to know how it feels to burn, Rie?" he asked huskily, kissing her before she could answer, afraid that her answer would have been no. Against his mouth, though, she agreed. "Then open your mouth."_

_She did as told and tensed when she felt his tongue darting inside her. Knowing that this was probably the first time she'd been kissed –and silently relishing in that knowledge—he was not discouraged. Quite the contrary, he continued at it slowly until he felt her relaxing into him. He waited for a bit, wondering, hoping she would become active instead of passively allowing him to lead, but she didn't. _

_He felt slightly disappointed but quickly reminded himself that it was to be expected. If anything, he thanked whatever had kept her from pulling him more into the kiss, for he was sure that had he gone down that road, it would have been extremely difficult for him to stop. When he did stop, he pushed away and, with mixed feelings and knowing that a cold shower was in order, he'd ended the lesson and walked away. _

That was the day that Genesis had waited for Vincent to come back and destroy, once and for all, all thoughts of future competition. It was in that same day, that Genesis had finally put a name to what he'd been feeling for her ever since the day he'd found her on the hospital floor.

He was in love with her.

Utterly. Madly. Beautifully in love.

Of course, what he hadn't counted on was on what would happen next. The fact that he'd fallen in love with her didn't mean that she had as well, which was something he had failed to take into consideration. And every action of hers –or lack thereof—could only support the idea that she didn't like him like he did, which was the source of both his troubles and pains.

For after that one kiss, he'd waited for her to make a move, to come to seek him and tell him how she felt. Instead, she'd become even more passive, not making even a small effort to talk to him or anything. In fact, after that time, they hadn't even had any of their lessons. And yet, she seemed not to mind. He had to wonder if the kiss had really been such a horrible experience for her…

"I'm sorry," she said suddenly, snapping him out of his train of thoughts.

He turned to her and, to his innermost delight, she was at least looking at him. Choosing to ignore his hurt he responded, "For what?"

She went back to twisting the blanket, shrugged and moving her mask, vaguely explained, "For displeasing you."

That had his head spinning with confusion. He jumped to his feet, placed the books atop the nearby table, sat on the edge of her bed and asked, "What?"

She shrugged again, unsure.

"Why would you ever think you've displease me?" he tried, knowing that she wasn't referring to his disappointment that she had stopped looking for him. If he was right, she probably hadn't even noticed that.

"Well… you suddenly stopped approaching me and you didn't come for our lessons either… I figured that I must have done something wrong the last time and I… I was trying to think of a way to fix it, but I'm not even sure what I did or didn't do. I…I've never done that before so… I apologize," she said, looking as though the more she talked the more frustrated she got.

Genesis stared. It was all so simple it seemed ridiculous in retrospect. Shiva, he was an idiot! All the hurt that had made him brood inwardly for the last couple of days, lifted with the simple confession. He couldn't help it any longer and he laughed, allowing all his dark thoughts to flow out the proverbial window. It was a boisterous laugh that made his belly shake and chased away his tiredness. A laugh that was self-reproachful and yet liberating. He'd never laughed like this before. He'd never felt like this before.

It was exhilarating!

"Why are you laughing!" she snapped, crossing her arms defensively and getting even more worked up when his laughter increased. "Y-you think this amusing?"

Without being able to get anything out past his shaking laugh, he pulled her into his arms before she could slide out of bed and leave the room. He was idly aware of the fact that she fought him quite intensely, but that didn't stop him from crushing her to him. After a moment she returned the embrace, at first hesitatingly, but then more firmly. That sobered Genesis up and he stopped laughing, though the smile, he was sure, would be permanent for quite some days.

"I'm sorry, Rie," he said, squeezing her arm.

"For laughing?"

He chuckled, shook his head and pulled her away to get a better look at her face, "For being stupid."

She frowned, "What?"

He smiled, knowing that this was an explanation that he wouldn't mind giving at all.

"Let's just say that I thought you had been displeased with me," he surmised when she looked like she wouldn't be satisfied without an immediate, clear response.

She mulled over that for a second before asking, "Does this mean I can shove my tongue in your mouth this time?"

Genesis almost toppled backwards. Only Rie would have been able to make something so innocent sound anything but.

**-o0o-**

**Reeve Tuesti** studied the building from outside the door. Thanks to the coordinated efforts of both the WRO troops they brought and some of the citizens, they'd finally managed to put out the flames after an hour or two.

"You think it's safe to go in?" asked Cloud as he peered inside, not quite eager to go in. Truth be told, neither was Reeve.

"Tifa said that Rie brought the scanners and some books out with her," Reeve responded, "but I think that it would be worth a look to see if more books survived."

"You think the key to our enemies is somewhere down there?" the blond asked scratching his chin as Reeve knelt beside the Cat robot and turn it on.

Reeve used the remote control to get the little robot inside. He ordered it forward slowly, else the cat triggered the entire structure to collapse. "Why else would their leader help them attack?" he pointed out.

"It could be because Tifa was here," Cloud offered, crossing his arms and looking at the screen that he'd attached to the control.

Reeve nodded curtly. Yes, he'd thought of that before and it did make sense at any rate. "It could be," he agreed. "But we better be sure than sorry," he decided, as he sent the robot deeper in. He was second-in-command, after all, and, while Tifa recuperated, he was not taking any chances. Not after what had happened to Yuffie. Not anymore.

**To be Continued…**

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**AN**: Don't forget to let me know what you think by reviewing if you have a chance! Oh, and, btw, if you haven't, go check out the new fanart done for this fic by the lovely _JazUmiN13 _in DA. The links are in my profile page!


	32. Inspiration

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any of its characters. I am just burrowing them for a while.

**Author's notes: **Okay, so here's another chapter. As promise, I'm trying to update faster without compromising quality. If you do see a typo or a grammatical mistake or any such thing, please don't be shy about pointing it out. I will appreciate it, since it'll help me keep the story better and, naturally, I'll give you credit for it. Also, I'm very happy to have found that you guys enjoyed the Genesis x Rie scene at the end of last chapter, all of that was supposed to happen slower and throughout the chapters, but I decided to just summarize it this way in order to keep the story from becoming too long. Anyhow, thank you all who read and review, I truly appreciate it from the bottom of my heart. You make me want to keep this story as entertaining as I can!

**Quick thanks to readers: **tracyboo, Acolyte of the Blood Moon, Eva _(Thank you very much! I'm glad you enjoy Genesis, I love writing him. He's just so much fun!)_, Auktober, Lili _(Thank you kindly! I'm glad you enjoyed Genesis' and Rie's moment, it was fun to write! As to school, I know what you mean, so no hurries! Take your time :)), _and Blue Deity.

**Typos pointed out by**: _Acolyte of the Blood_ _Moon_, _Raven Crimson _(thanks so much for catching the mistake in Yuffiee's name!), _Ex Oxide_ and _Sephiroth Owa 13_.

**~Enjoy** and don't forget to **review**!

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"_Prayer is the soul's sincere desire, uttered or expressed; the motion of a hidden fire, that trembles in the breast."_

_-James Montgomery-_

"**One Winged Angels"**

By: FenixPhoenix

**Chapter 32: "Inspiration"**

**Reeve Tuesti** compiled all the paperwork he'd been studying for the past few days into a neat pile. Leaning on the back of his chair, he massaged his temples, feeling utterly disappointed at what they'd found, or rather what they _hadn't_. He felt his suspicion returning as he contemplated the aftermath of the attack on Nibelheim. Whatever important information had been stored in that basement was lost within the ashes. The more he wondered about it, the more he believed that Tifa had not been the only target that day –in fact, she might have not been a target at all! At least, maybe, not yet?

He threw his head back and stared at the cold, steely ceiling in frustration. His enemies were acting in expected ways, sure, but there seemed to be something unusual happening just underneath. Reeve couldn't help but feel as though no matter how much he tried, he couldn't quite see the entire picture. The mere idea that they might be a step behind their enemies was irritating. Any mistake on their part, any oversight of something, might put more people at risk and that just would not do!

It was bad enough that both their teams had been attacked when trying to retrieve information. If he didn't know any better, he would think there was a mole within their ranks, aptly feeding Raphael and his minions specifics about their strategies. Of course, he also had to take into account that their plan hadn't been the most original. To be completely honest, it had actually been quite predictable. Information, after all, was the first component needed for a good campaign. And this they had embarked upon was definitely not a simple battle, but a war that could prove to be lengthy at best. Perhaps even more so than the one against Sephiroth several years back, definitely longer than the one against the three silver-haired brothers that came after.

_No use whining about it. One step at a time, Reeve._ He told himself, knowing that there were other things -he could actually do something about- that needed his attention. To that purpose, Reeve got to his feet and was about to search for his leader, when the door to his office inside the Shera opened to reveal said woman behind.

"Tifa! I was just about to look for you," he greeted her. But she either did not hear him or chose not to acknowledge him, because with a thoughtful frown and an uncharacteristically solemn aura, she stepped inside. Without a word, she made her way towards him, her arms folded and eyes looking but not seeing. Her mind was clearly on something else and, knowing better than to interrupt, Reeve waited patiently for her to speak her mind.

When at last she reached him, she absentmindedly leaned on the edge of his desk, facing him, before finally addressing what had brought her here, "Reeve, have you ever heard about the Shadow Project by any chance?"

"The Shadow Project?" he echoed, lowering himself on his comfy chair and staring at the ceiling as he tried to remember where he'd heard about it before, because he was sure he had. Or was it that he'd read about it? Yes! That was it! He'd read about it somewhere. He frowned, rattling his brain for the elusive answer.

"Well?" she prodded leaning forward, eagerness making her wine eyes twinkle with inner light. They sure were quite pretty when they weren't darkened by concern. They somewhat reminded him of Yuffiee's a bit. He forced his thoughts back on subject, feeling a slight blush –which he was quick to hide behind a hand- tainting his cheeks. Shiva, that woman was rubbing on him! How else would such a random –not to forget dim-witted- thing popped into his mind?

Clearing his throat he glared at the ceiling, as if his change in attitude had been the fault of its dull surface, while the gears in his mind focus on working on more important issues. At some point, part of the blurry memory began to surface, "I think I've read about it somewhere," he admitted, combing his hair back as he fished for more facts. "If I remember correctly, it was one of several projects that were started after the retrieval of Jenova. I…," he sighed, knowing that there was more to it and digging deeper into the recesses of his mind. "I can't quite recall all the details, but I think several teams were dispatched to follow Hojo's initiative and experiment with the cells. The Shadow Project was what one of those teams called their tests… their _experiments_."

Tifa's interest prompted her to scoot closer to him, as if fearing she would miss a word, "What else do you know about this?"

Reeve shook his head, finally grasping the memory. "Nothing more, I'm afraid. That information was above my pay grade. I took a peek at the document one time while waiting for my boss. The report was sitting on his desk and I couldn't help myself. However, I was only able to read so much if I didn't want to get caught."

"Damn!" she cursed, holding her chin between two fingers. "Could the documents be stored somewhere in the WRO's database?" she sounded hopeful and Reeve hated having to crush that, but he could not lie to her just to spare her. It was not his style, not since he'd left ShinRa, anyways.

A part of him laughed at that last lie. Old habits die hard. Still, one thing was for certain, he really could not bring himself to lie to Tifa, especially not now that she was their leader. So, apologetically, he shook his head, "We've been recovering ShinRa documents here and there, but that hasn't been at the top of our list, I'm afraid. We have some minor reports of shady businesses, but nothing as important as this that I know of."

"Oh, I see," she sighed, her brow marked by the beginnings of frustration, her shoulders slumping the tiniest bit.

Reeve kept quiet for a minute, trying to find a solution to the problem, even if he didn't quite grasp the enormity of it. Suddenly, an idea came to mind. "My department worked in close conjunction with the Turks. Perhaps Rufus Shinra would know more about this."

The smile that brightened her face stole a grin from him. "Perfect!" She jumped off her perch and moved towards the window. For a while she lost herself in her thoughts again as she stared at the passing clouds outside. Finally she turned to him, "Alright, call Reno and Rude. Ask them to join us here."

Reeve nodded and, using his PHS, did as told. As they waited for the pair to arrive, he swirled his chair so that he was facing her. "Tifa, if I may ask, what exactly prompted this sudden interest?" The WRO's leader did not like to admit it, but he hated being left in the dark, which was exactly how he felt at the moment. It made him think back upon his days in ShinRa, where secrets were part of the job and thus inevitable. Yet, ironically, even when he himself had been the keeper of more secrets than he could count, they still made him uncomfortable, especially when he found himself standing on the other side.

"I –we need to learn everything there is to know about these teams, Reeve," she said, pushing back from where she'd been leaning near the window in order to pace around the room. Her movements, he noted with interest, were not fluid like usually, but rather jerky. It was almost as if her entire body was currently coiled, bidding her time for the right moment to pounce.

"Of course," he agreed amiably. Why else had they gone to retrieve information if not for this purpose?

Ignorant to the sarcasm in his statement, she continued, her voice filled with a passion he'd never heard from her before, "You don't understand, Reeve. I think I have it! I think I have the key to dealing with Jenova's warriors. I can feel it, it's so close. I just need one more puzzle piece and maybe…"

Reeve quirked an eyebrow, his interest heightened, "Maybe…?"

She stopped and opened her arms as though to embrace whatever she was about to say, "We need to _understand_ them first, Reeve. It is imperative that we do that!"

The WRO leader nodded in agreement, thinking he'd figured what she was aiming at, "Of course, the best way to defeat an enemy is to study him first, to learn his weakness and exploit them."

Tifa frowned as though he'd said the most inane thing she'd ever heard. With a sharp tsk followed by a chopping motion, she disregarded his words completely, making it evident she would hear no more of them.

"You have it all wrong," she corrected sternly, but then, to his confusion, her lips parted again into a wide smile, her eyes twinkling with that brightness of having thought of something genius. "We need to understand them so that we can _help_ them."

"Help them?" he echoed, unable to hide his surprise and, within it, his utter confusion. He must have heard her wro-

"Exactly!" Tifa beamed and, tapping his nose softly with her index finger, explained, "The best way to destroy an enemy, Reeve, is to make him a friend."

Reeve just blinked at her. She was either mad or enlightened, and at present, he could not decide which. Before he could try to make better sense of her words, the door opened to reveal the couple of Turks they had on their midst.

"Yo! Wassup?" asked Reno, as he sauntered inside, sparing Tifa a wolfish grin he dared not use when Sephiroth was around. "Ya tired of the ol' man, Teef?"

Tifa did not rise to the bait. Either that, or she was too far gone into whatever her mind was scheming to pay attention to the redhead. So, rather than giving him a customary roll of the eyes, she turned on him and his quiet companion the smile she'd directed at Reeve before. "I need you guys to do something for me."

"Anythin', darlin'," Reno promised, picking at his teeth with a toothpick while Rude just stood at attention, SOLDIER style.

Reeve thought that, if anything, a plan was better than no plan at all. And for the sake of doing something -anything, really!-to further their cause, he would support Tifa in her strange enterprise. After all, the Goddess of Gaia had pretty much chosen her to lead the fight, for all he knew this was exactly what she had intended. Whatever the case, Reeve thought that after all they've been through; the least he could do was _trust_ her. And so he would.

**-o0o-**

**Sephiroth Crescent** stopped reading one of the many journals they'd scanned when he heard the door swooshing opening. He looked up in time to see Tifa stepping inside, wearing a smile that was splitting her face in half. Sephiroth detected immediately, however, that there was something else about her today, something not quite off just… _different_. Something that made her look as thought she'd just gotten off a rollercoaster ride. It was excitement mingled with hope and something else that he couldn't quite describe, but which he absolutely loved seeing.

She turned those twinkling eyes on him and stared. They gazed at each other for some time in complete silence, which was a first, given how she seemed to despise more than a minute of it. He quirked an inquisitive eyebrow upon noticing her curious stare turning mischievous as she took him in –all of him!- with deliberate scrutiny. He struggled to stay stock still and not give in to the temptation to break the silence by asking what she was thinking. He hated and loved, in equal amounts, how sometimes her mind was a mystery to him.

Wine eyes, meanwhile, unashamedly traveled down the length of his half-naked body, paying particular attention to the displayed muscles of his chest and abdomen. The light in her eyes dimmed until her orbs darkened with another form of excitement, one that was contagious enough to make his heart leap and a grenade of lust explode inside his stomach, reaching all the way down to his groin.

A red tongue darted out to wet her lips just as he heard the unmistakable sound of the lock falling into place behind her. Sephiroth reigned in his desire, trying to keep from pulling her to him and ravishing those lips of hers, maybe even more if she'd allowed. Even though his instincts told him that she wanted exactly what he wanted, he was still hesitant. After all, she had been hurt in this department and, truth be told, Sephiroth was no expert on women, much as people liked to give him credit for. So, for the sake of treading on the safe side, he stayed put and waited for her to make the first move, to determined what they would do and how far it was permitted to go.

It wasn't easy. In fact, it was agony to keep passive when everything inside him screamed to stand up and take her. It was amazing the way she'd managed to awake so primal a longing with a simple look, a simple swipe of her tongue. He wondered what else would come awake if she kissed him now, if she touched him…

"'Tis time to take care of some unfinished business, Sephiroth Crescent," she challenged with a sultry smile, all the while walking slowly towards him, swaying her hips in a way that prompted him to discard his gentlemanly poise and growl almost savagely. Shiva, she was going to drive him insane! She was tempting him and, if she did not stop, he wouldn't be able to either.

When she reached the foot of the bed he'd been sitting on, his back pressed against the wall, she placed one knee on it. He felt the shift in the mattress, and waited and watched spellbound, as she brought slowly, so very darn slowly, the other one up to meet its pair. Sephiroth's throat became so dry that he was forced to gulp when she gave him an unobstructed view of her cleavage. Noticing where his eyes had gone on their own accord –but what was he to do? He was powerless against her feminine wiles! Not to mention, Tifa was a very gifted woman in more ways than one!- she smiled seductively before crawling towards him. She swallowed the distance cruelly at leisure. Her muscles moving with a feline grace that made every hair on his body stand on end. She looked not like a kitten so much as a lioness ready to savor her meal. Funny, how Sephiroth had no problems with the fact that he was said meal, so long as her teeth sunk into his flesh and no one else's.

In rising anticipation, he waited for her to reach him. And, Odin, the fiery minx took her sweet time to do it, too! He had to wonder if she enjoyed making him suffer so. Maybe he ought to return the favor? The thought died on his head before he could make good on it when she finally did reached him. With a smile, she sat on his lap, straddling him in order to claim his lips. He kissed her back hard and long and passionately, all the while being acutely aware of how she kept squirming on his lap, alternating between pressing and rubbing against him.

She smiled against his mouth when she tore an animalistic growl from him. Sure now that she wanted exactly what he wanted, he grabbed her by the waist and flipped her so that she was lying flat on her back with him on top.

"I gather we no longer care about other people listening in on our little… business?" he whispered in her ear, licking the lobe and biting it playfully. When he made his way down to kiss and suck at the sensitive spot on her neck, she moaned, making him smile this time around.

"Stop worrying, Sephiroth," she responded lazily, locking her ankles behind him so that he was trapped between her legs. He didn't quite mind the trap. "Let them hear if they wish, I'm tired of waiting."

Sephiroth chuckled, parting with her when he felt her hands moving through the mountains and valleys of his abs and down to the waistband of his pants. With three quick motions he'd stripped her off her vest, her shirt, and finally her bra, leaving her exposed to his attentive gaze.

"Now we're on equal grounds," he explained huskily, leaning down to capture one of her enticing breasts. Tifa arched her back to give him better access, her hands grabbing fistfuls of his hair as she trembled under him, trying vainly not to moan. But Sephiroth wanted to hear her. He longed to rip his name out of her lips and hear it coated with a thick layer of ecstasy.

What he hadn't expected, though, was that she would try the same. For before he'd known what happened, as he was busy trying to give both her breasts equal attention, she'd slipped her hand inside the front of his pants and had taken a firm hold of him.

"Tifa," he warned, considering her tactics rather dirty in his books. At least he hadn't made his intentions as stealthy as she had, or so he argued.

But the nymph just smiled at him devilishly. "Now, Sephiroth, we are on even grounds," she whispered and _pulled_.

It was a game at first; a game to see who would call out to the other first; a game to see who would succumb to the claws of crazy bliss earliest. And yet, at some point, when they'd gone past that foreplay, it had been stripped down to what this really was, what this really meant to both of them.

It was being with one another in absolute vulnerability and yet feeling absolutely safe. It was baring it all, soul and body, to the scrutiny of the other and discovering only perfection. It was holding to each other until they melted and could not determine where one ended and the other began. It was a transformation that defied the rules of reason. It was where one plus one equaled one. It was love. Raw. Crazy. Unimaginable. Unimpeded love.

Sephiroth Crescent wanted to yell and to weep. He wanted to whoop and to fall into a solemn silence of contemplation. He wanted to hold her and kiss her. He wanted to tell her so much and yet he didn't quite know where to start.

She kept pace with him, a thing that both surprised and amazed him. He had probably thrice the stamina of a normal human being, what with his enhanced genetics and his daily mako showers back when he was in SOLDIER. And yet, Tifa, born and bred a hundred percent natural, was just as demanding and vigorous and consuming. If anyone had ever had doubts that she was the right match for him, this was just one more evidence to the contrary. She was the missing piece of his life. If, as Minerva had told him that first time, a one-winged angel needed a partner to fly, Sephiroth had found his and they had already soared.

When she settled beside him, her sweaty body half-lying on top of his, he told her what she meant to him in simple words, "I love you, Tifa Lockhart." Even that statement, once said out loud, seemed insufficient to convey all of what he felt towards her, his need and desire, his hopes and his dreams. Sephiroth could only hope that his actions would express that which could not be spoken. It was something that, if anything, could only be lived as it was written on flesh and soul.

She smiled at him, the angel discarding the visage of the daemoness she'd borrowed in order to finish what they'd started on the Junon vessel so many days ago, and said, "I love you too, Sephiroth Crescent." And in her eyes he saw reflected what he felt, that something that couldn't be explained. And he was more than satisfied with that, to be in the receiving end of such love and care.

Slowly her lids dropped to cover those wine eyes that had bared to him the depths of her soul, and she slept. With his arms around such a gentle yet strong creature, he marveled at his luck at finding such happiness following a life that had lacked any real purpose. For so many years he'd lived such an empty life that he was amazed it had taken the voice of Jenova to drive him insane! Odin, how much had he missed! How ignorant of him to think being a hero had compared to the happiness of loving someone and being loved in return.

Holding the woman who'd unlocked his heart, he kissed her temple and stared at her for a while, simply enjoying the rare moment of peace and quiet. He enjoyed watching her sleep. Mostly because it was confirmation of how comfortable and trusting they'd become with each other. After their love making, of course, this trust had reached a new level. Tonight Tifa was allowing him to be with her when she was at her most vulnerable, and he relished in the knowledge that she belonged to him as much as he belonged to her. At some point, the sound of her peaceful breathing coupled with her warm touch, lulled him to sleep.

Sephiroth Crescent had never slept with so light a heart.

**-o0o-**

**Shera Highwind** heard the alarms and for a moment, thought she was imagining them. The pain has started some hours ago and, though she'd prayed and prayed, it had yet to abate like they'd usually done before. And still the sirens wailed loud and clear and… _annoying_. She laughed sarcastically at the irony. The alarms seem to somehow fit the occasion perfectly, even if they were unwelcomed. If she'd thought before that nothing could make the pain worse, she now stood corrected. Was it possible that the piercing sound was able to further distress her baby, making him wriggle around her stomach, punching her insides unmercifully?

Shera heard the door opening soon after and in came her stern husband, much to her dismay. Despite her own predicament, Shera detected the tension in his body and the half moon under his eyes. Ever since the ship's first attack, he'd been unable to sleep peacefully. She couldn't blame him. It had been as traumatic an experience for him as it had been for her.

When Cid approached her, Shera smiled tightly at him, trying to keep him from noticing the pain that her pregnancy was causing. This was no time for contractions; her baby would have to wait even if she forced him to. It was just like a Highwind to be inopportune. In answer to her silent chiding, she felt her baby kicking against her sensitive inside. She killed the wince before it could twist her face into a grimace.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, hating the trembling of her voice. She could only hope that he would attribute it to the situation outside rather than the one inside her body.

"'Course not! That's jus' the damn alarm signalin' that the fuckin' sun 'as risen and all should wake and do their goddamn job!" he snapped, just like she knew he would. Better to have him annoyed than worried, she figured. When Cid was mad, he tended to be less observant and she was counting on that trait to help her now.

"W-well," she started, fisting her hands on the fabric of her gown, hiding them from view behind the blankets that he'd draped on her before she turned in for the night. "You better go find Tifa, then." Shera suggested, wishing the man would just leave already! It was taking all her self control to keep the 'sweet' smile fixed on her face when all she wanted was to scream and ball into herself. Her eyes began stinging with the unshed tears and she smiled more broadly so that her eyes shut completely, hiding the evidence of her weakness. Holy, this baby sure wanted out! But he would have to wait. There was no time right now for her -and by extension for him—when it was clear the sirens meant an imminent attack.

"Nah, I think's better I stay right 'ere," he argued and she felt the mattress sinking as he sat beside her. How she hated this man and loved him at the same time!

"Cid, don't be funny. You are needed right now," she pressed, bringing a trembling hand to caress the stubble on his cheek. He really needed to start shaving soon, or it will hurt him when it was time to do it.

"What's wron'?" he asked, suspicion draping his voice, hiding the ring of worry below it. He took her hand in his and, by how he rubbed at it, she knew he'd found them cold and felt them trembling. Stupid pain!

"I'm just worried, is all," she told him and, giving him the innocent, damsel-in-distress look that she knew he secretly loved, added, "My husband, I would feel so much safer knowing that you're out there, helping out and keeping us," she patted her stomach, wishing their child would keep still. She was glad that he'd seen the action as emphasis instead, and so continued without losing a stride, "safe and sound."

"But—"

"You're needed elsewhere, Cid Highwind!"

"Fine, woman! I'll go check if I'm fuckin' needed, 'kay!" he grumbled irritably, his brow marked with a worry his casual words were unable to hide. Perhaps he too, in his own way, had attempted to keep her calm. Shera shove the guilt of forcing him away out of her mind for the time being. She hope she didn't regretted this as, feeling him pecking her lips –a sign of affection he'd been reluctant to give at first, but which he'd grown fond of lately—he stood up and went for the door. Shera followed him, through the slits that were her green eyes, until he disappeared behind the door. Once he was gone, she let out a small yelp and bent down, holding her stomach, afraid that it would explode.

"Everything is going to be fine, my son, please…please calm-," she moan again when she felt a contraction, her entire body tensing, her eyes squeezing out tears. Holy, she'd never known it would be this painful! And it couldn't have come at a worst time! She had no choice, though, she would have to suck it up and pray… pray that the child would not come.

**-o0o-**

**Tifa Lockhart **woke to the wails of sirens and the red flashes of the ship's alarms. Sephiroth was already on his feet, fixing his gear as his eyes scanned their room for threats. Tifa followed suite, pulling on her clothes just as someone knocked insistently outside. Making sure she was as descent as she could get in so limited a time, Sephiroth unlocked the door and an energetic Genesis dashed into the room.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty," he said when he noticed _her_ disheveled appearance. How Sephiroth, even with his longer hair, seemed to have taken hours to groom while she looked like she'd just rolled out of bed –which granted, she had, but come on!—she would never understand. It was unfair, though, and she'd no qualms on letting him know. Not now, of course, but once things got back to normal.

The contrast between her appearance and her lover's prompted her to use her fingers to comb her hair and brush at her clothes as best she could. There was no way she would get the wrinkles out and she was just glad that Sephiroth hadn't ripped the clothes off of her. That would have been mortifying.

"What's happened?" Sephiroth asked, as she worked on pulling on her gloves, happy to see a repertoire of enough high-leveled materias glinting there. Tifa hadn't really gotten around to updating her equipment, so she made a mental note to do it after dealing with whatever was coming their way. She would actually do it right after wrestling out of Sephiroth how he kept his appearance impeccable even after having the sex they had –which had not been a quick ride by any means!

Tifa slapped her forehead softly, earning a quirked eyebrow from both Sephiroth and Genesis which she decided to ignore. There was something wrong with her, if she couldn't get her head on straight!

With a shrug, Genesis pointed at the nearby window with his unsheathed sword, "Monsters. Lots and lots of them."

Tifa peered outside, Sephiroth beside her, and noticed a black swarm coming in a steady, frightening wave towards them. She struggled to keep her jaw from hanging open. Holy! There were hundreds of them, maybe even more than a thousand. Already they were starting to block out the rising sun!

"See? Lots of them," Genesis insisted lightheartedly, and Tifa wondered if he truly was as unconcerned as he sounded. She wished she could steal some of his confidence, if only to stop her heart from trying to jump out of her chest and run to who knows where!

She berated herself for wishing something that she had the power to obtain on her own. Her hands fisted tightly, her knuckles turning white and her veins popping with the effort to keep her slight trembling from showing. Damn her body for allowing fear to lay siege to it! Because experience had shown her, time and again, that to doubt her and her allies' abilities, was a sure way to get them all killed! She was their leader, now! And the leader, she'd learned, was the one that needed to set the right mood for the battle to come. Tifa Lockhart would be damned if what she presented was not the utmost composure and the fiercest belief that they would make it!

"Alright," she said, recovering from the shock and the fear and the doubts. The door swooshed opened and in came the rest of the new AVALANCHE minus Shera, who'd been bedridden due to her pregnancy, and Rie. Tifa was glad that none had seen her internal battle, so that when they came in, she was able to face them stoically –her eyes displaying, perhaps, some of the cold fury building in her heart. How dared Raphael attacked them now? More importantly, how had he found them when they'd been flying low to the ground?

"Wait! Whose driving, old man?" Yuffie Kisaragi, her arm still encased and tucked into the fabric hanging from her neck, asked the pilot, the paleness of her face implying that she was either afraid of the attack, or still horribly airsick. She had a feeling it was the second, but still took a moment to study the young girl. Yuffie looked slimmer since she'd been hurt, but at least she was on her feet again, her broken ribs mending with the help of Aerith's care and, she was almost positive, Reeve's.

"I've ma fuckin' second for now, 'kay!" Cid informed harshly, though Tifa knew the tone had nothing to do with Yuffie's question. As if to prove her words correct, he swept them all with his blue gaze and grumbled, "Now, listen all of ya, if I lose the Shera, I'm gonna be pissed!" His eyes became thin slits, "So we better make damn sure we don't get even a fuckin' scratch on ma baby, you hear!"

Tifa's assumptions were confirmed by his statement. Only those who truly knew Cid understood that it wasn't his ship he was worried about, even if his words had implied so. No. Cid wasn't talking about the ship at all. It was losing the woman he'd name the ship after what prompted anger to fill his eyes. And she knew this, mostly, because she felt the same. Anger had a way to come in the wake of fear, as if to protect the person from displaying what would only get them killed. In battle, even if it was said there was no room for fear, that didn't mean it wasn't there. Just lying in wait, right below the anger, reminding the person that there was something precious to keep, to protect and in so doing creating a thin spot where serenity was found.

That was the key to fighting till there was no more energy left and then fighting some more. It was the wish to protect someone else what differentiated the thugs from the warriors, the boys from the men, the weak from the strong. And Cid was not merely a pilot, but a warrior as well; one that would fight with teeth and nails to keep his family safe. Tifa had never felt so proud.

"What's the plan?" Cloud asked, looking at her and bringing her thoughts back to the problem at hand. It still surprised her to hear him asking in public something that in the past he'd been careful to only ask in private.

But she was the leader now, and she was ready to make the necessary calls. "Cid, do you have sufficient people handling the ship's weapons?" she asked.

The pilot shook his head, "I've got two open spaces on the rear."

Tifa nodded, "Good. Reeve and Yuffie, you both handle that. Try to bring down as many of those beasts as you can." Studying the injury the ninja had sustained, Tifa thought better of it and asked, "Yuffie, are you up for the task?"

"Tifa!" She gasped melodramatically. "Who do you think you're addressing? Rie?" Yuffie joked.

"Hey, watch it!" Genesis interrupted with mock anger, but Yuffie ignored him.

Pulling her arm out, she successfully dissipated Tifa's concerns. Sure, her hand was a bit obstructed, but she moved it around for her to see that it would not be a problem at all. Tifa smiled with relief, she had been counting on what the ninja could do, even with one and a half arm.

"You've nothing to fear, my fiercest leader, the Rose of Wutai will bring the suckers down before they can reach us!" Yuffie promised. Then grinning wickedly, she turned to a sobered Reeve and challenged, "You think you'll be able to keep up?" Tifa found it very interesting how she'd stopped referring to him as 'old man'. She would have to ask later.

Reeve Tuesti rolled his eyes at the childish comment, but Tifa saw his lips quirking slightly before he used his hand to caress his beard and, in so doing, shielded them from view. Yuffiee, though, had seen it as well and beamed at him. Tifa chuckled, happy that she'd made the right choice in giving them the assignment. Apart from Vincent, Yuffie, was the best in regards to marksmanship, closely followed by Reeve, who'd taken to using guns instead of puppets once he'd stepped up to lead the World Regenesis Organization.

"Alright, Cid, you stay in the main deck. We'll need your skills to maneuver the ship once we start taking damage, because I think we all know that'll be inevitable." She waited until Cid had agreed, albeit he didn't seem to like the fact that his ship would be taking damage at all. But there were things that could not be helped and this was one of them. For even if Yuffie, Reeve and whoever else was controlling the weapons did not miss, there were still far too many enemies coming in a swarm. And these were beasts that, she was certain, would not be cowered into retreating once some of them started falling. If anything, the blood of their comrades would further instigate them into slamming against the ship in an effort to bring it down. Already it was weird enough that such a huge group composed of different monsters was working together at all! How Raphael had pulled such a stunt, she could only wonder at, and in some dark recess of her mind, she dreaded.

"What of the rest of us?" Aerith asked, gripping her staff, signaling she was ready for whatever she decided to assign her.

"Aerith, you stay inside the ship and take care of any wounded." The healer nodded. "The rest of us," she swept the crowd, "will go out and meet the threat. We'll only be able to fight on the deck, so I suggest that those of us who cannot… _fly_," she said this with a smile, sparing a glance at the ex-SOLDIERs and Vincent, "use ropes to strap ourselves to the ship. It might be more difficult to fight, but at least that would keep us from being thrown over the side."

Solemnly, the people around her nodded, and Tifa was glad that no one had asked her to stay behind. In a moment of silence –the calm before the storm, she knew- she met the eyes of all her warriors. It was weird, thinking of them in this way. But truth was, she had been elected their leader and she was at the receiving end of the same look she'd given to other people before. It was a look that trusted and waited for her command. It was a look that sought hope in her words and reassurance in her eyes. And how could they not? They were placing their lives on her hands and, though she wished for nothing more than to vow that nothing would happen, that they would all make it out intact, she couldn't. She wouldn't. The only promise she could make was that she would do her best to keep them safe, but that was it. Everything else was in their hands as a collective group and on fate.

Naturally, thinking on the invisible threads of fate brought to the forefront of her mind Ramuh's words, his vision and his warning. _Rising within a group of cards, a force will call upon brave stars. A prayer whispering upon great deuce, will cause tears shed for those who're doomed._ Despite her promise that she wouldn't consider the prophecy, she couldn't help thinking and fearing the last part. She feared that maybe her orders would actually cause her friends harm, that maybe she was actually sending them to their very deaths!

_Stop it! Think straight. Here and now and nothing else. The future is ours to shape!_ She reprimanded herself, squaring her shoulders, obliterating the onslaught of doubts before she became overwhelmed. The mood she would set would not be one of doubt!

Yes. Tifa refused to be cowed into passiveness. Courage wasn't the absence of fear, but the will to act despite it. This was one of the last things Zagan had taught her. It was what had brought her out of her depression when she'd finally confessed to him how she felt like a coward. For when she'd tried to stop Sephiroth, she hadn't been able to stop shaking.

Sizing them all up, she smiled at them. Making sure she made eye contact with each and every one. Tifa decided against giving a big speech, knowing that time was of the essence and, truth be told, feeling like there was no need. Inspiration did not always come from words. Had she not said time and again that words were not the only way to convey feelings? So she wouldn't use them now. Instead she opted for something simpler.

"What do you say, we deal with this and then we enjoy some good breakfast?" The people around her smiled, Barret even laughed. "You're all dismissed. Go get ready and I'll see you when we're done… Don't be late, I'm making pancakes!" She thought better of it and pointed at her General, "Or Sephiroth is!"

With that they were gone, and she was left alone with her smiling silvered haired General.

"You did well," he commended, kissing her temple, before he took her hands to check the materia she'd equipped on her gloves. Without a word, he brought his hand up and mentally pulled Odin out of his palm. It never ceased to surprise her how his skin could just swallow up the red stone like that. "I will feel better if you have him." With that, he exchanged it for a low-level fire materia she's been planning on mastering. Tifa pulled him down by the front of his coat in order to kiss him chastely in thanks. Odin was one of Sephiroth's favorite summons and the fact that he'd parted with it at all, spoke volumes.

"It's time," she reminded, letting go of him and walking out. He followed right after, his long, sharp Masamune on hand. Tifa realized, as the rest of the warriors joined them and she took a good look at them, equipped and ready, that she wouldn't like to be facing them.

_Tremble, Jenova,_ she promised silently to the entity that threatened them at every turn as she stepped out into the outer deck. Before her, the black wave continued to approach unopposed. _We're coming for you next. _

**-o0o-**

**Shera** was unsure of how much time had passed. The sirens still blared, the light still flashed, and the only thing that had changed was the intensity of the pain. It had worsened, if that was even possible. The contractions had been coming closer together until, at some point, it was one collective clot of unending pain.

She knew she had been yelling because her throat ached, but amidst the other noises filling the ship, she doubted anyone could hear her. For a moment, she regretted sending Cid away. She needed him. The baby was coming and there was no one here to help her! Panic threatened to drive her insane as tears streamed down her face, blurring her sight. She laughed bitterly at the last. Her sight had become meager at best, for the pain had prompted white spots to mar it anyways, a couple of tears didn't make much difference to her.

"S-Shera?" someone called and she rushed to come out of her cocoon of pain, latching onto the voice like it was a lifeline.

"W-whose there?" she gritted out, her jaw so clenched she feared her teeth would crack under the pressure. For a while no one answered and she felt tears of frustration mingling with the ones of pain.

"It's me… I…I heard you scream… are you alright?" It was Rie. Shera had been so concentrated on her own pain, that she'd thought she'd been left alone even as the girl had slipped inside. She doubted that Rie hadn't made any noise, but the fuckin' alarm kept messing with her head, and so she hadn't heard her. That and the pain, of course. Holy, she was hurting like she'd never hurt before!

Turning her face to the right, confirmed what she'd already predicted, the girl was standing in the middle of her room, truly at a loss as to what to do. With trembling fingers, Shera signaled her to approach. Her steps were short and hesitant. Rie kept looking at the door behind her, either wishing that she hadn't come inside or wishing someone else would come so that she could go back to her lab and do what she knew how to do. If not for the pain and frustration and anger, Shera would have laughed at the expression in the younger girl's face. She looked like a cornered chocobo, ready to split at the first sign of trouble.

Another contraction had her heaving and seeing white. Shera mightily kept from screaming at the top of her lungs. That would be a sure way to get Rie running, not towards her, but as far away from her as possible. And, if anything else, Rie could be damn fast when she wanted to. Her survival instincts were sharper than Vincent's marksmanship skill by far.

The train of thought led Shera to wonder if she should ask her to get someone more experienced in here, but a contraction –or rather a group of them- forced her to reconsider. Gulping and heaving with the pain, she grabbed the girl by the sleeve of her jacket once she was close enough, not wishing for her to bolt before she'd psychologically –there was no way she could do it physically- forced her to stay. She didn't like keeping her against her will, but there was no other way, she had run out of time, the baby needed out and the only one available was Rie. She would have to do.

"I'm having my baby," she told her. It took long to get that one small comment out. The effort to think coherently had her covered in even more sweat.

"Congratulations," Rie said, unsure, while trying to pull away from what must have been a vice like grip –if the girl's wince and her startled look was any indication.

Shera forced a smile but by Rie's reaction –which was to give a step back and glance longingly at the door- she guessed it must have not come out as 'sweet' and 'reassuring' as she'd hoped. Well, the pain had a way of twisting one's face, so she brushed it aside as inevitable. It could also have been that by trying to be commanding she'd ended up looking scary.

"Rie, dear," she called to her, her tone overly sweetly. That didn't have the intended effect either, because the girl's efforts to pull away doubled. Well, the strength of a woman in labor should never be underestimated. Shera's fingers dug deeper in silent response. "Listen to me closely, you're going to deliver my baby and that is that."

Rie froze, straightened, looked at her as if she'd grown another head –which she had, but it wasn't hers and it wasn't popping out of her shoulders either! Then, cocking her head, truly at a loss, she asked, "You mean you want me to bring the baby to someone? Wouldn't that have to wait until it's… you know… out of your body?"

Shera rolled her eyes and prayed for patience and guidance. Right now she wanted to scream and strangle the woman, but she forced the urge down and told herself dealing with Rie was preparation for the child to come. "You, dearest Rie, are going to help pull the baby _out_ of my body."

"I don't think-"

"Lucky for you I'm not asking you to think, Rie, just to do it!" She snapped, heaving and trying to calm herself. But Holy, the contractions were killing her. Slowly and unmercifully. "There's no one else and there's no more time, Rie. You are not allowed to say no, you hear?" she pulled in some breaths, trying to keep her wayward emotions under control. Damn it, the pain was so much! How could a baby hurt so much? She focused on Rie only to see tears welling in her eyes. She was just as scared as Shera, worst maybe because she truly had no idea how to handle situations under pressure.

"Are you dying?" she asked in a small voice.

Her words struck a chord. Maybe it was because that certainly was becoming a possibility, or maybe it was because this was the first time the girl had expressed concern for her at all. "Rie, listen to me, I'm not planning on dying, okay?" She waited until Rie nodded, then continued, opting to go about this in a way she would understand better, "Alright… listen, I need your help. I truly do. Now, I'm sure you did some research after you found out I was pregnant, did you not?"

Relieved either by her response or how the subject had shifted, Rie nodded eagerly, "I did read about it some."

"Good, so you have the knowledge to help me deliver this baby, Rie," she told her with confidence, knowing that Rie would never have done research halfway. If anything, she would have read all there was to know about babies, including, she feverishly hoped, deliveries.

"Genesis says that reading is not the same as doing," Rie argued, resuming her efforts in trying to pry her fingers away. At least her voice had returned to its over-analytical quality, which, even if a bit annoying, was better than to have her squealing.

"This is as good a time as any to prove him wrong," Shera told her with a tight smile. "I need help, Rie, and there's no one else to provide it but you. Are you going to abandon a friend when she needs you the most?"

Rie's mismatched eyes widened and she looked at Shera as though she'd just said something miraculous. Shera was struggling to keep up with the emotions traversing through her face, but the pain was making her dizzy and nauseous and lightheaded all at once.

"We're friends?" she asked, this time grabbing Shera's shoulders and leaning down until they were eye level.

Shera thought that was the stupidest thing to ask, but she answered if only to get things moving, "Of course we are, Rie!" It came out angry. She cursed.

Rie, however, was not discouraged. Instead, she stood there for a long while, just staring at her, considering her words even as Shera twisted her arm when a wave of pain assaulted her. Nausea rushed right after, and she forced it down by swallowing it. Holy, Cid was going to pay for getting her pregnant!

"You are my friend and I will help you," Rie finally promised, rubbing the arm that Shera released. She had to trust that the girl will keep her promise, for if she left the room now, there was nothing the older woman would be able to do to stop her. It was taking all her strength to keep from passing out. "Tonberry Cato would do it too."

Shera did not ask who that was, happy to at least to see Rie's eyes fill with determination as she moved to the bathroom to get things ready. Shera could only pray that Rie would be enough to get her child into this world, even if she ended up trading her life for his. Her last coherent thought, was wishing she had told Cid she loved him.

**To be continued… **

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**AN:** Gosh, Shera was hard for me to write because the in-game character is so vague, so I hope you all felt she was believable (though, do consider that pain makes people cranky, lol). Anyhow, please do **review** if you get the chance.


	33. Bittersweet

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any of its characters. I am just burrowing them for a while.

**Author's notes: **This one was a bit tough, but I finally finished. Thank you very much for those who pointed out I wrote Yuki instead of Yuffie last chapter (Sephiroth OWA13 and Raven Crimson!). I don't know what that was about, my brain was probably messed up, lol. Anyhow, enjoy this chapter and don't forget to review!

**Quick thanks to reviewers: **Eva _(thank you! I agree, they are just so cute!)_, Blue Deity, Sephiroth OWA 13 _(thanks, hun!), _Acolyte of the Blood Moon, Raven Crimson, tracyboo _and_ Rianna-Saraephina.

**Special thanks to: **_ITheMemoryKeeper_for her illustration of Sephiroth's first kiss. You can find the link in my profile or use this and get rid of the spaces: ( http: /ithememorykeeper. deviantart. Com / art / Sephiroth-and-Tifa-213017874 )

**Typos pointed out by**: _…_

**~Enjoy** and don't forget to **review**!

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"_Of all the animals, men is the only one that is cruel. He is the only one that inflicts pain for the pleasure of doing it."_

_-Mark Twain-_

"**One Winged Angels"**

By: FenixPhoenix

**Chapter 33: "Bittersweet"**

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**Shera Highwind **screamed as she pushed for what felt like the hundredth time. She was drenched in sweat, clothes hugging the upper part of her body quite uncomfortably. Tendrils of brown hair began sticking to the sides of her face, framing it but in a non-alluring way, prompting frustration to rise within. The veins on her temples and arms, as if to externalize her emotions, popped out to signal her body's increasing distress.

"One more time, Shera Highwind," Rie instructed, sitting down between her legs. It had taken some convincing before Rie had accepted it was necessary to look below the covers in order to deliver a baby. With an expression of visible anguish, the scientist had settled to work.

In the back of Shera's mind, a thought occurred to her. Would this turn into too traumatic an experience for Rie that, in the future, she would be reluctant to have a child of her own? Shera hoped she would be bright enough to realize that not all births were as dramatic as this one, or as painful. Then again, Rie was not one to easily forget the few memories she did have.

"How much more?" Shera asked, wishing there was someone else who could hold her hand and assure her that things would be fine. She wished Cid would the one besides her, whispering soothingly in her ear, even if his words were punctuated by the occasional curse. She truly did miss him. Why had she sent him away?

Alongside a mouthful of air, her energies left with the following exhalation. She was so depleted that even raising a hand seemed a daunting task, never mind trying to sit down. It also didn't help that the ship kept rocking to and fro as the battle outside intensified. Oh, yeah! That was why she'd sent him away!

Shera closed her eyes, truth was, she hardly cared anymore what was happening to the ship. The alarms that had annoyed her now seemed like distant buzz. Holy, she was so lightheaded that, were it not for the throbbing pain south of her stomach, she would have giggled for no particular reason.

"Shera!" Rie yelled at the top of her lungs, squeezing one of her knees to gain the attention she'd lost. The older woman frowned, idly wondering how long she'd zoned out. It was unlike her to be so far away from the present. Yet, despite her current predicament, she was having a hard time keeping her mind focused on the subject at hand.

"What's happenin', Rie?" she asked, slurring her vowels as though she'd had too much to drink. Supporting the thought blossomed a feeling of relaxation strikingly similar to the one brought about by a good number of wine glasses being emptied. She liked wine. Red more than white. White was simply too sweet for her tastes. Wait. What had she been thinkin' on? Oh, yeah, the serene relaxation. It was a beautiful sentiment to experience, especially after hours and hours of unrelenting pain. Though, if she could have one complaint, she wished her mind wasn't working so slow. She was having trouble processing anything outside of her own thoughts.

No. That hadn't been it. Wasn't there something else she needed to concentrate on?

"Shera!" Again the insistent scream.

Shera opened the eyes and fixed her tired gazed on the raven haired girl. How old was she, anyways? She'd once asked Reeve, but he'd confessed he hadn't a clue either, he assumed she must have been around her late teens or early twenties and they'd settled it at that. Now that she thought about it, much about her continued to be a mystery. And what in the world was she doing sitting there, peeping at a certain part of her anatomy like a pervert!

"Shera!" The girl called again, prompting Shera to squint at her, trying to focus on what she was saying. "I need you to push! Just one more time, Shera, push!" Push? Now why would she want to do such a silly- oh, Shiva, the baby! Yes, that was why! How could she had forgotten? The baby was coming!

Shera focused on that thought, repeated it in her head like a mantra and, fisting her hands on the soft fabric of the bed sheets, she prepared. _Just one more time, she said. Just one more time, you can do it, Shera! _She shut her eyes, took a deep breath and pushed with all the might she had left, which was not that much. It, thankfully, proved sufficient to finally expulse the child out of her womb. She laughed weakly the moment she felt the tiny creature leaving her body empty of the discomfort of his weight, mitigating the pain –dull as her senses had rendered it—once and for all.

Shera opened her eyes and was surprised to hear the sound of her baby's howling so far away when Rie was holding him up for her to see very close to her face. The small creature was so close, she could see the tiny freckles on his chubby cheeks. It was a beautiful boy with blue, tearful eyes and dark blond hair. She tried to reach for him but her arms were too heavy, so she contented herself with smiling lazily up at him.

Rie's brow met on an uncertain frown when she saw this. "Shera!" she heard the voice as if coming from the end of a long tunnel. How queer… She wondered if she should be worried. If she should, then why wasn't she? She blinked as she realized that oddly enough, there was still that profound sentiment of peace and relaxation that couldn't be chased away even by the rocking of the ships or the still blaring alarms replacing all else.

Her sluggish thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the strangest of things. Rie had wiped away her baby and had left him, crying and alone, on one of the chairs, wrapped in fluffy towels. She'd then proceeded in pulling the covers off of her and it was then that Shera discovered what had had the younger woman worried.

It was red.

All so red…

Such a pretty color, red, and yet it somehow scared her. It wasn't like blue. Blue was safety and comfort. Red… it was rather unwelcomed at the moment. Shera did not like this. She didn't like this at all. Yet, she couldn't muster the strength to say so. Instead, she just stared at the big stain, feeling none of the things that she should. It was almost as though she'd somehow managed to detach herself from her body and was looking at someone else looking down at her bloody body without recognition.

She heard Rie shouting something –a warning, maybe?- before she disappeared inside the bathroom. When she came back, she was holding a bag that had first aid equipment inside. Her hands were trembling and she kept mumbling incoherently as she dug things out of the bag, letting them fall on the floor haphazardly. Shera didn't know why, but she found Rie's actions funny and chuckled weakly at her. She tried to move, to tell Rie that it was okay, to reassure her that she was fine, but again she found that she couldn't move, she could barely even twist her head to look around.

She should be worried, shouldn't she?

It felt as though that should be the natural thing to feel and yet… she kind of wanted to just close her eyes and rest and sleep- The door opened to her right, bringing her out of her giddy stupor. Without hesitation, a man she had never seen before stepped inside, looking around with open curiosity. He was beautiful. Like an angel, except that, when he turned to her and smiled, she felt something twisting inside her. She focused on the feeling, knowing it to be important, until her mind made sense of it.

It was fear.

This man scared her and, looking at Rie, standings stock still at the foot of her bed, he scared her too. The man's pretty golden eyes slid towards the newborn baby still crying on his makeshift bed. Shera followed his gaze and with impotence watched as he approached the newborn. She moved her tongue about in her mouth, but it was numb and uncooperative and all that came out of her were undistinguishable sounds. How weak of her, that she can do nothing but watch! She tried to scream but ended up coughing instead. Why was there iron in her mouth?

When he was a step away from her wriggling child, Rie sprang on him like a Nibel Wolf defending its cubs, her short sword on hand and at the ready. The man took a hold of the weapon and, with a smart move of his arm and a snap of his wrist, he had her disarmed. Shera cursed when, using her momentum against her, Rie was spun and pushed aside none too gently, receiving a nasty blow to the knee when it connected with a bolted desk.

With a hiss, she rolled out of the way of a second attack, opting to keep a more secure distance for the time being. The man –Shera knew who he was, she just couldn't remember! Who was he! Tifa had spoken about him, about his odd smile and what it did! Shera struggled to remember the name, but it proved elusive. When she gave up, she realized that he'd said something to Rie that tore a savage scream from her. She resume her attack, momentarily forgetting that even when armed she'd been no match for him.

There was a sudden flash outside –like lightning— followed by a trembling of the entire ship, as though something had exploded outside. The blinding light that filtered through the window rendered the whole room white for maybe a couple of minute, possibly a little longer. When she recovered her sight, Shera noticed that the silver haired intruder had lost Rie's sword and was inspecting his arm curiously, his head cocked to the side ever so slightly. Blood was tickling out of a deep gash and, behind him, on the wall he'd been pushed against, where deep indents of… claw marks?

Instead of frowning or cursing, the man –what the hell was his name!- smiled at Rie with something that could have been excitement or evil glee –maybe a mixture of both. Rie, however, did not see this, as she was kneeling before him, grabbing her arm as though it pained her, looking at her limb with fear and disgust. Most of all, though, Shera wondered what had prompted her abrupt exhaustion. She was panting on the floor, limbs trembling while sweat accumulated across her forehead in thick, rolling beads. How had she gotten so tired so soon? Rie might not have had the fighting skill of most of AVALANCHE or even WRO members but she certainly had the stamina to keep up with Genesis and Tifa when they'd trained with her.

The man -Raphael! Yes! That was his name!- approached her at leisure, his gentle smile making a comeback, until he stood towering her. He looked so tall in comparison! Or maybe it was that because Rie was kneeling she looked so darn tiny. His lips parted to say something, but Shera felt her vision tunneling, until she could barely discern things, a dark veil threatening to extinguish her mind.

She blinked and fought to stay conscious, the darkness somewhat lifting. With horror, she witnessed as Rie failed again in a mindless attack and was kicked so hard, that her body was sent flying through the bathroom door, breaking it with a groan. Raphael took something out of a pocket in his pants. He looked at it for a while, his expression unreadable. It was a small silver thing, but Shera was too far away to tell what it was. With a snap of his fingers, he gently threw it inside the bathroom.

Shera's green eyes widened and, unconsciously, she braced herself for something, an explosion of some kind. Surely it was a grenade or something, right? But nothing happened and Rie did not come out. Feeling the man's eyes on her she shivered. His bright, golden orbs glowed with mako energy and twinkled with something more, something that was positively evil despite his beautiful smile. She felt her body trembling, laying there, before him, exposed and completely vulnerable.

_Jenova_, her mind whispered, and even the unspoken sound shook with foreboding. _No. Don't take him!_ She tried to tell him this, to demand it, but again what came out was a bunch of gibberish. Raphael paid her no more mind as his eyes focused on the little bundle on the chair. With panic, she saw him sweep him up and into his arms.

This was wrong!

This was so very wrong!

Someone should have been here already, helping them! Isn't that how it went? Good guys always had friends around, ready to stop the evil guy from doing harm? Well, this was harm! This was unbearable harm! This will destroy her and, she was positive, her husband as well. Cid would be devastated! Someone should help her!

But this was not a children's story, and so nobody came. It made her want to cry.

Cradling the boy in his arms, Raphael made his way towards her. He leaned forward in order for her to hear his morbid promise, "Because he is an innocent, Shera Highwind, I shall save him." He produced a red flower out of nowhere and used its petals to brush at her chapped lips. When a tear escaped her, he scooped it up with the flower and kissed it away. The boy in his arms had somehow, despite the noise and the fact that he was being held by a monster, fallen asleep. "Oh, dear Shera, do not fret. I'll take good care of him, you have my word."

Raphael tucked the flower, alongside some of her wet hair, behind her ear. He smiled one more time before he straightened. In one last act of cruelty, he showed her the slumbering boy. Three white wings came out of his back and, folding it around them both, he disappeared taking what was hers with him.

_How dare you! How dare you take my baby!_ She yelled inside her head and felt something inside her breaking into pieces. She wondered if it was her sanity or her grief, her mind or her heart.

"Riiieee!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, tears streaming freely down her face. Her breath was shallow, her sight was dim and her whole world seemed to be sinking around her. He'd taken him! He'd taken her son! What would Cid think? What would he feel! Oh, holy, he'd taken him and she'd done nothing to stop him! It was her fault! She shouldn't have sent Cid away!

The tears and sobs piled on her, overwhelming her, threatening to sent her over the edge and throw her into the bottomless hole of insanity. As if heeded by her voice, weak as it might have been, the young scientist stumbled through the broken door. She was holding her head and looked disoriented, but was otherwise unhurt save for a few scratches here and there.

Rie's mismatched gaze scanned the area quickly and Shera struggled to order her to go and find her boy. But Rie wasn't listening and only resumed searching for something inside the stupid bag she'd brought out of the bathroom. Fucking woman! Shera wanted to scream at her, to slap her and she also wanted to hug her… very badly.

How could Raphael take him! Why had he taken him? He was innocent of any and every crime!

The last thing Shera saw, was Rie taking out a syringe, altering her veins and plunging it into her own arm. After that, Shera allowed herself to succumb to the numbing embrace of unconsciousness.

**-o0o-**

**Aerith Gainsborough **watched in horror from the doorway as Tifa disappeared behind a curtain of flesh, fur and claws. One monster after the other had crowded around her, isolating her from the rest of her battling companions. Barret and Vincent, noting this, were quick to plunge into the fray, clawing their way to where they'd last seen her. A short eternity later, enough monsters had been felled for Aerith to make out the kicking and punching Goddess of War that was Tifa Lockhart. She sighed with relief and brought a hand to her heart, wishing its erratic beating to simmer down.

When the corpses began piling on the deck, Cid's harsh voice resonated through the speakers. "Dammit! The fuck ya doin' down there! We're losin' altitude, goddamn it! Roll the fuckers out of ma goddamn ship already!"

Barret and Nanaki did as ordered, pushing the bodies down the side of the ship as quickly as they could and when they could. Vincent and Tifa, meanwhile, took it upon themselves to protect them while they finished the job. Twenty carcasses later, the ship regained some of the lost altitude, though Aerith knew that it was a matter of time before the battleground was again littered by dead monsters. Hopefully, the only corpses they would be forced to roll out would belong only to their ferocious assailants. Aerith didn't think she would be able to remain in her post otherwise.

Peering out the door, she noticed that the swarm coming in behind them seemed undiminished in its numbers. She frowned and locked her jaw in frustration. The Cetra was never one to swear, but she did it this time. The chain of curses that rolled out of her mouth was so long, that she knew she would've made Cid proud had he been present. The couple of WRO aids Reeve had lent her, however, were far from impressed. Instead, they fixed her with a widened look that was almost comical.

"What?" she asked them rather harshly. But she couldn't help it! She was irritated by the fact that they would regard her emotions scandalous rather than brush them aside as ordinary, like they surely were given their impossible situation! The young boy and even younger girl raised their hands, as if to ward her off, exchanged an uncomfortable look and shrugged before getting back to their patients. Aerith sighed to herself, disappointed that she'd allowed her sour mood to surface and probably upset her charges. It wouldn't do to have her snapping at people just for staring, now, would it?

She bit one of her long nails. She was aware that the least of her problem was destroying the benign image of her they'd created, yet it still rubbed her the wrong way. Did that made her a bad person? And if that didn't, did the fact that for the last hour her patience had been wore thin to the point that she'd deliberately ignored the more 'sensitive' patience in favor for those who took the healing of their wounds in stoic silence did?

Damn it! How could she not be on edge? There were just so many enemies and so many wounded and the end of the battle didn't seem to be anywhere near! This was merely the third wave that had made it past the ship's turrets and the three former SOLDIERs, plus Vincent, who were fighting in the skies. The wounds left by those few monsters that had made it to the deck were already catastrophic!

Her eyes unconsciously latched onto Cloud. He wasn't actually flying, a part of her corrected, he was more like jumping around from one demon's back to the next. She chew at another long nail as she followed his lithe form, his sword merging and unmerging as he slashed his way around the battlefield. She wondered if he was as tired as she felt just by looking at him.

Aerith had never been one to lose hope, but the more she saw and the more she was required to heal wounds that were not all shallow, the more she felt it slipping away between her fingers. Would this fighting truly never end? It seemed to her that they'd just left one fight and got into another one without getting much of a break!

For some reason, her eyes jumped from Cloud to a Griffin that was flying nearby and whom completely ignored her boyfriend. When he flew in a circle twice, all the time looking down, Aerith had the suspicion that he was getting ready to attack someone. She followed his gaze and found his target.

"Tifa, watch out!" she yelled, as the huge half-lion/half-eagle monster dived towards her friend, front claws spread and at the ready to tear her into bits and pieces.

Tifa had been catching her breath, hands on her knees, and had been thus unable to react in time despite her sharp reflexes and Aerith's warning. Unimpeded, the Griffin had barreled onto her back, jerking her hard enough to snap at least a couple of ribs. Tifa hissed with pain but, locking her jaw, she counterattacked with a roundhound kick to the neck. Taking advantage of the beasts own momentum, she ended up snapping its column vertebrae, the huge monster sliding down the side of the ship as the vessel swiveled in order to evade another wave of flying monsters.

Tifa had slid with him but managed to take hold of a bolted crate. Once the ship straightened, she jumped off of her perch and idly brush some sweat off her brow. Her dark eyes scanned the area around her. Nanaki was nearby, engaged in an unfair fight against a Blue Dragon and a couple of cracked Gargoyles. Tifa was about to jump in when another Griffin and, an even stronger, Hippogriff attacked her from above. Caught off guard, Tifa was quickly overwhelmed and ended up on her back, fighting to keep from being throttled by the sharp front claws and the wicked hind paws.

Aerith had just stepped outside, intent on ignoring her orders and offering assistance, when somehow her friend kicked them aside and got to her feet. The counterattack that followed was ruthless as Tifa finished them off with Meteor Strike. By the end of that fight, the brunette swayed on her feet in disorientation, prompting a worried Sephiroth to order Barret to get her inside.

Without hesitation, the big man did as told, sweeping Tifa off her feet and throwing her over a shoulder like a sack of potatoes in order to continue showering a pack of Ironites with explosive bullets. Fighting his way towards her, felling one monster after the other with his gun, Barret brought Tifa inside. Distracted by a loud scream, he gave Aerith a look that clearly stated she should get to work on Tifa, before hurrying back outside to help a group of WRO's soldiers who have gotten themselves in a tight jam when they allowed themselves to be cornered by a pack of Sonic Speeds.

Aerith let go of a breath she hadn't even known she was holding, relieved to at least get Tifa some needed attention from within the safety –flimsy as it might be—of her post. With Tifa laid on one of the many mattresses Aerith had brought up in an effort to get hurt people as comfortable as possible, she got to work.

As she prodded her body to make sure no bones were broken, Tifa blinked out of her short stupor and frowned in utter confusion. Slowly, recognition surfaced on the wine depths of her bloodshot eyes. She tried to get to her feet, but Aerith shook her head and pushed her head back down firmly.

"Stay," she ordered, resuming her inspection only to realize that Tifa's wounds were worst than she'd originally predicted. Using a portable x-ray machine –she knew it would come in handy!—courtesy of the WRO, Aerith discovered that one of Tifa's ribs had nicked her left lung, which explained why the woman had been having trouble breathing for the last hour or so. The problem with broken bones was that magic couldn't mend them entirely, time and rest had to do some –if not most, of the work.

Not heeding the look on her face –which was clearly screaming 'this is not good, not good at all!'—Tifa shrugged her hands off of her and tried to sit down. Aerith didn't even have to push her down this time. Tifa's eyes moved to the back of her head when she was in the middle of it and, with a groan, she settled back down. Pushing her hands out of the way, Aerith gingerly fingered the back of her friend's head. There was a significant bump there, probably from where she'd been beaten to the ground, which explained her disorientation earlier on.

"You have two broken ribs, a nicked lung and a concussion," Aerith surmised, patting her shoulder gently. "You're out of the fight." Wishing to hear none of it, Tifa attempted to crawl out, if needed be, but Aerith pulled her back down just as insistently. "You are in no conditions to go back out there, Tifa! Healer's orders!" She chided sternly, keeping a hand on one of her shoulders just in case she thought of ignoring her again. Aerith was pretty sure that if Tifa was not this banged up, she would have reversed their position a long time ago and would have rushed out of there unimpeded. Tifa was a master in hand to hand combat, after all. In fact, she was so good, that Aerith could not recall anyone, not even Cloud, besting her when they'd joined her on friendly spars.

"Jus' cast… me a cure… an'… a haste an'… I'll be… fine," Tifa insisted in between pants, waving her concern away.

The fact that she had taken that long to say that one sentence did not help her case. Neither did the weak attempts at pushing Aerith away. How old was this girl, again? Silently conveying her feelings in the matter, Aerith glared, crossed her arms defiantly and shook her head. Tifa sighed and brought a hand up to rub at one of her temples. All resistance left her in a whoosh and Aerith felt safe enough to retrieve her hand.

Aerith sighed softly. She wanted to tell Tifa she was sorry that she was keeping her from her duty, but instead she ended up confessing something that had been troubling her since the battle had commenced, "It's unending."

The Cetra felt shame at the implications of her words and the defeated ring that had accompanied them. Her emerald eyes latched onto the exit, where she could see the black swarm still trying to pull the ship down. It was frightening and the thought of it made Aerith's hands fist on her staff, turning her knuckles white. She didn't understand why this would frighten her as much as when meteor had threatened their entire existence -maybe it did even more! Perhaps it was because, in a sense, this did as well? Her existence was thanks to her friends and without them, would life be worth living?

Her gaze searched and fixed on Cloud when she thought this last. She wondered, quite bitterly, if she was destined to never hold onto her happiness for more than a few months. First she'd been parted from Zack then Cloud and now… now, just when she thought she had been given a break, she could be parted from him once more. It was unfair! Had she not given enough? Sacrificed enough? Had it all been for nothing?

It wasn't helping her feel any better the fact that hope seemed to have vacated her heart. It all just seemed so useless! The more they fought the harder it became! She closed her eyes, angry at herself and at the bleakness of her thoughts. A hand was immediately on her cheek. It was warm and gentle and she knew it was Tifa's. Despite the pain Aerith had caused her when she'd set her heart on Cloud, Tifa had never treated her with anything but utmost respect and kindness. Aerith could not understand how this gentle soul could sometimes be so blind to her own strength, which was more than doubled her own! It wasn't she the one with the golden heart, as many had always believed, it was Tifa. It had always been her most beautiful attribute. Aerith had even, in more than one occasion, found herself envying her. Why else was she spared by the lifestream when no one else had? Even hers and Sephiroth's return was due, in great amount, because of her -_for_ her.

Tifa's long, pianist fingers tried to brush her tears away, but two of them escaped and rolled down the Cetra's cheeks to plunge right into her half-bloodied face. The hand suddenly stopped its comforting ministrations. Aerith opened her eyes and looked down at her. Her dark eyes were wide and her whole expression was paralyzed in peaceful wonder.

Aerith shook her, concern rising when she stayed the same, unmoving and unblinking, her eyes glazing over to grant her a faraway look. Trembling, the healer brought her staff up and cast cure and then, thinking that perhaps she'd overlooked some kind of poisoning, she'd proceeded in casting esuna and dispel. Yet, Tifa remained the same. Covering her mouth with a hand in a nervous gesture, Aerith considered calling Sephiroth over, if only to have someone else's input on the matter. Tifa, however, chose that moment to snap out of whatever had happened by blinking. Aerith sighed with relief, brushing at the sweat that had accumulated on her neck.

"Ramuh," Tifa murmured, looking over Aerith's shoulders. The healer turned, expecting to see someone there, but to her returning apprehension there was no one. Aerith bit her nail, looking –for the entire world to see—extremely unsure.

_Granted, talking to an invisible person is odd, but at least she seems more conscious of her surroundings!_ Aerith told herself, if only to keep from running around the battlefield asking for assistance. A sudden thought popped into her mind then. _Wait! Ramuh? As in the Guardian Ramuh?_

"Tifa, are you-" the rest of her question died on her lips when she felt heat –strong and stable—emanating from Tifa's body in powerful waves. She saw her body glowing with it, her eyes alight as if she'd been showered with raw mako energy too! Yet, it was different. Her eyes glinted more than glowed, the red tint of her orbs visible in magma spots.

And there was something else, something about the feeling that was crawling below her skin, making its way into her own heart. Aerith had once been one with the lifestream and now, she felt its currents within Tifa. The warmth emanating from her felt, an inconsistent as it sounded, also cool. Somehow the life of the planet had slipped inside her, Aerith was sure of it!

A tear rolled down her cheek at the realization. Aerith felt peace where before she'd felt only fear. Her hope was swiftly rekindled when Tifa got to her feet, unassisted. Her body fully recovered and looking stronger than ever before. She reminded her strongly of the Goddess of Gaia herself, imposing and gentle in equal amounts.

"I am ready to rise to the call, Ramuh," her words flowed with a confidence that made Aeriths' heart sing, even if she continued to stare at the being that only she could see. The air cracked around her with lightning and Aerith felt certain that she was truly in the presence of a Guardian of Gaia.

"Tifa!" She called, wishing to know what she was planning, wishing to help in whatever she could. But with a last parting look and a small smile of reassurance, Tifa lockheart walked out alone. She moved to stand in the middle of the deck, undaunted and unfazed. Closing her eyes as if in prayer, she stood there for a while, like a statue of war, until, to the Cetra's awe, the planet answered.

**-o0o-**

**Tifa Lockhart** felt something inside her twist unpleasantly when she read defeat on Aerith's tearing, emerald eyes. It hurt to think that even she, who had always seemed to have a perpetual reserve of hope at hand, was thinking that this was it, that they had failed.

Aerith must have been ashamed, because she either didn't want or couldn't bring herself to meet her gaze. Instead, she closed her emerald eyes and squeezed out tears. She looked so… _human_. And it was a scary thought because Aerith had always been the one to smile when all seemed lost, like an Angel of Gaia come to earth to spread the seeds of hope.

Instinctively, Tifa reached out to brush them away, as if by doing that she could ignore their presence in the first place. She needed to be strong and Aerith's slumped shoulders were not helping in strengthening her optimism. Tifa opened her mouth, intent on convincing her that everything would be okay, when some of the tears she hadn't brushed aside dropped onto her own cheeks. It was unnaturally odd. Tifa felt them roll down, painting clear lines within the blood coating her skin, and leaving a tingling sensation on their wake. They felt heavier than hers had ever felt when she'd allowed herself a moment to weep. Before she could further ponder this, before she knew what happened, Aerith wasn't there anymore, neither was the ship.

Tifa noticed a lot of things at the same time, as if her mind had been injected with a dose of haste that allowed her to simultaneously concentrate on different things and follow each thought through. Part of her realized that the feelings that had weighted on her heart –despair and fear and anger—had been replaced by gentle peace and deep serenity. The other part of her acknowledged at the same time that she had been called back to the world where she'd first met both Jenova and Minerva. She also wondered if this was happening inside her own head, or if she was somewhere else deep within the planet's consciousness.

Whatever this place was, she soon found herself floating inches above the liquid lifestream. If she closed her eyes and concentrated, she was sure she would be able to hear the song of its flow. Even after all this time, Tifa could still vividly recall what it had felt like to be inside it, hugged by its currents, filled with the coolness and the warmth that were its flow. It was ironic for her to recognize that she had managed to retain her own persona when Cloud, and every other who had been tossed inside –some much stronger than her, she was sure—had all lost their own.

_You know why,_ a voice said and Tifa was not sure if it came from her own imagination, or if it was truly her mom speaking from the afterlife. Her eyes stung with tears, causing her sight to blur. It did not matter that she might be deceiving herself, she liked to think that it was truly her mom's voice comforting her. And yes, she would not fight what the voice said. She knew the reasons why she'd been spared, even if part of her had trouble believing in them. It was because of her heart, or so Minerva had told Sephiroth when she'd first assigned him to her. Little did she know that he would come to steal it and keep it for himself. The thought made her smile. It was not as bad as it sounded, Sephiroth could not have been a better keeper, he would surely keep both her and her heart safe.

"Tifa Lockhart," a voice called or greeted, Tifa was not sure. Turning to her right, she saw her. The Goddess of Gaia, Minerva. She was still dressed in her gold and silver armor, still imposing and amazingly beautiful. Her eyes were blue this time as she contemplated her in silence.

"Goddess Minerva," she greeted politely, prompting the woman's eyes to switch to a honey hue that seemed warmer, somehow. Maybe she was imagining that a hint of love was swirling there, but then again, maybe it was something else that she was simply unable to read correctly. The woman –_Goddess_ always made Tifa feel like she was hiding something from her. Today was no exception.

"You are the planet's hope," she reminded not quite sternly but not friendly either. Her words made her think back to when she'd been called to her presence before. No. She hadn't been really called, now that she thought about it. Tifa had been fighting a part of Jenova –a small but deadly one—in a place she assumed had been within her mind, when she'd first met Minerva. She'd appeared within the darkness and, after a short introduction, had lent her aid, promising that she would always be there for her. She wondered if she came to do good on her promise or if this was some sort of test.

"I know… Trust me, I'm trying," Tifa argued, the peace she'd enjoyed cracking, allowing frustration to come forth. She might have been out of line, but something told her she was on trial and should defend herself. Then again, she usually tended to overreact… With that last on mind, she sighed and admitted in a gentler tone, "I am only one person! I cannot fight against all those monsters on my own, no matter how much I wish I could!"

Minerva smiled, a twinkle of amusement lighting her eyes, tainting them with a bit more red, a bit more warmth. Tifa's hands fisted on the fabric of her duster with anticipation that was making her nervous. She hated being on the spotlight, especially when faced with beings that were… well, Godly. It also didn't help that she felt as though Minerva had been able to read her mind and knew of her internal debate.

Tightening her hold on her long staff, the Goddess pointed at her chest, at the spot where her heart was beating erratically, and proclaimed, "The power to help you and yours resides within you. As promised, for as long as you protect the planet, the planet shall lend its aid!" The Goddess brought the butt of her staff down into the lifestream to punctuate her last word.

Just as the echo of her powerful voice died and the silver pole touched the liquid, Tifa was returned to her rightful place within the world. Blinking, she realized that she was lying on the mattress with Aerith's questioning face looming above. Everything seemed the same except that she no longer felt the pain or disorientation that had rendered her useless before. Movement caught through the corner of her eyes prompted her to looking back up. She noticed for the first time that standing behind Aerith was the regal figure of Ramuh himself. Tifa greeted him softly, welcoming him even when part of her resented him for the warning imparted the last time they'd seen each other. It was bizarre to see him outside of her dreams and yet it somehow, also, felt incredibly natural.

Ramuh nodded and regarded her with those knowing eyes for a short while before stating, "It is time." Tifa nodded weakly and almost winced when she realized he had not finished. Sternly he proceeded to echo his warning, "Rising within a group of cards, a force will call upon brave stars." He pointed at her briefly, at the spot in her chest where her heart was beating. Then pointing at Aerith, he continued, "A prayer whispering upon great deuce, will cause tears shed for those who're doomed."

"Tifa what are you—" Aerith began. It was obvious that she wasn't aware of being in the presence of the Guardian of thunder and Tifa idly wondered why he would chose to conceal himself from all but her.

Locking her gaze with the powerful entity, however, Tifa nodded in understanding. It hadn't mattered what she'd told herself, it seemed the prophecy was coming true, at least the first part was. That did not mean, however, that she would allow the rest to come to pass as well.

"I am ready to rise to the call, Ramuh," she acknowledge, voicing her acceptance of what his words truly meant with the vague phrase. Nodding, he watched impassively as she got to her feet. Raising his staff, he proceeded to fill her with newfound strength and energy, healing every wound that her body had attained. She idly noted the air cracking around her with electricity as she focused on what she had to do, on what she _could_ do. She was fighting for the planet and it was about time that the planet helped in fighting back.

"Tifa!" Aerith called, her eyes glinting with newfound hope. Tifa smiled at her in reassurance, thrilled to see her returning to her old, optimistic self. The current expression on her face suited the Cetra much better than the frown and the tears.

Confident that she could change the tide of the battle, she stepped out and marched towards the center of the deck, feeling her body so light that she wondered if she was gliding instead. With new eyes, she scanned the raging battle, noticing the coordination between the different monsters that she hadn't before. Her lids dropped and her fingers weaved together, her head moving downwards until her chin was almost resting on her chest. Everything ceased to exist for a short while. There was no sound outside of the beating of her heart, the rush of her blood and the inhalations and exhalations of her lungs.

Tifa brought forth the image of the lifestream, allowing its peacefulness to embrace her again, sowing the seeds of peaceful serenity. Below her lids, she saw Gaia's guardians raising from within, answering her silent call one by one. Her energies diminished every time a new guardian was summoned, but she kept concentrating on bringing them out of their slumber, until all of them were awake and ready to do her bidding.

_It is time,_ she told them, happy to see recognition and approval glinting in their eyes. They were a fierce looking bunch and Tifa was sure that nothing would be able to stop them once unleashed. Opening her eyes, she threw her hands up in the air, and did just that, she called them forth to stand and fight. For the life of their Gaia if nothing else!

There was an explosion of white light and she was at the center of it, creating it and directing it. She felt her energies being further drained and, with interest, saw as her own people falling to their knees on the deck. Somehow, somewhere along the way, they had been depleted too as she'd called the summons they'd equipped on their weapons forward.

"Tifa!" she heard Sephiroth call to her right, his voice sounding coarse with what she assumed was concern. But she couldn't afford a slip in her control, so she neither turn to him nor said a word. It was better to play it safe. This was new to her, after all. She told herself that she would just have to apologize to him later, because no matter the odds, she wasn't planning on dying anytime soon -especially when she still had plenty of more business to settle with her General.

Her feet left the ground and she found herself floating within the group of guardians who'd come to her aid. They were all moving around her, awaiting her command. Tifa had never felt as humbled or as powerful. Raising her hand, she pointed at center of the approaching swarm. There was no way the monsters were working together by their own volition. Something or someone was controlling them and Tifa had had enough of that. If she destroyed whatever was keeping the swarm together, then it was possible that the monsters would flee or maybe even fight among themselves rather than against them. How some monsters were supporting others that they would normally have for lunch was unnatural and further proved her developing theory.

Tifa was slightly surprised when she realized that she didn't have to voice her orders, the guardians knew what she wanted even as she thought it. It was a communication that was made by thoughts and intentions alone. Just like she could feel them, she assumed that they might be able to feel her too. So, with a resounding roar, they rushed forward with the power of a tempestuous storm, bringing her with them, pulling her along.

It felt much like riding the lifestream, yet this wave was angry and ferocious. Tifa felt her own emotions rising and she couldn't help joining her own war cry with that of Gaia. She wasn't the slightest bit scared as they plunged into the moving, black mass. She felt secure and powerful, with the guardians all around her keeping her safe. She directed them onwards with thoughts alone, helping here and there by casing high-level spells to disintegrate those who dared stand on her way.

At last she reached the heart of the enemy, the bahamut family and Odin closing in on her, ready to defend her against any and every harm. Before her, riding a Black Dragon rivaling Bahamut Sin in size, was a black-caped replica of Sephiroth Crescent. Surrounding him were not monsters, but degenerating copies of Genesis. It brought back memories of when she'd first been attacked in her bar, back in neo Midgar. It seemed a lifetime ago. If it wasn't for that memory, she was sure that she might have given her adversaries a chance to strike her because she was positive she would have had to do a double take believing that the second part of the prophecy had come true and her General had betrayed her. But that cruel-looking man wasn't Sephiroth. He was not even worthy of wearing his skin!

"That face doesn't suite you," she told the grinning replica, pushing forward, allowing the energy the guardians had surrounded her with to propel her towards him like an rocket. Odin came with her without needing to be told and he quickly engaged the savage Black Dragon, rendering her free to only take care of the laughing replica. The Bahamuts, for their part, busied themselves with the Genesis copies, ripping them apart as though they were made out of rice paper.

The copy of Sephiroth was strong, but not nearly as strong as the real man. Tifa had trained with her General enough times to understand how the man moved, how he preferred to attack. This shadow was only that, a small part of Sephiroth and because of that, he soon became predictable. Tifa took advantage of it, just like the real Sephiroth had had in her bar, and finished him off when she connected the bone of her knee with the side of his face. There was a gruesome crack before the figure fell from the skies, crashing against the ground so hard, that only a crater and a stain of flesh was left behind.

As predicted, the monsters were quick to disentangle themselves from the group, some fleeing while others preyed upon smaller creatures nearby. It was chaos, but at least the threat they'd posed before had been successfully neutralized.

Realizing this as well, the guardians around her disappeared one by one until only Odin was left. He pulled her up behind her six legged horse and turned around, making his way at a gallop towards the Shera. Without words, he landed on the deck and patiently waited for her to slip down. When she did, he nodded at her in a quiet salute, before he disappeared, retuning to the gleaming red materia on her glove.

"Tifa!" Sephiroth pulled her into his arms, crushing her against his chest. She could feel his heart beating so fast that she feared he would have a heart attack. "Please," his voice was low as he pleaded, "do not do that again."

She hugged him back while the only thing she managed to say was, "Remind me that we have some more business to settle, Sephiroth Crescent."

He chuckled at that, kissing the top of her hair. Tifa was just starting to relax in his arms, when a freaked out Yuffie interrupted.

"Shera's baby is gone!"

Her words froze everyone on place and, in the silence that followed, she thought she heard Cid scream with anger and pain.

**To be Continued…**

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**AN: **This was a hard chapter to write! Please **review** and let me know what you think so far if you guys and gals have the time! Cheers!


	34. The Final Piece

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any of its characters. I am just burrowing them for a while.

**Author's notes: **I had a lot of fun writing this. I think Tifa's POV was actually the hardest, since I was trying surmise the situation –what happened after the fight— so that the story wouldn't drag longer than necessary. Anyhow, thanks you for all those who have lend me your support!

**Quick thanks to reviewers: **Kelana-ti, Blue Deity_, _Acolyte of the Blood Moon, Raven Crimson, tracyboo, ITheMemoryKeeper, Command76 _and_ Rianna-Saraephina.

**Typos pointed out by**: _…_

**~Enjoy** and don't forget to **review**!

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"_Mystic dreams, that came to soon _

_A heart that streams, and makes me swoon_

_Golden eyes, that look beyond _

_The skies that rise, the voice that spawned_

_And yet how late, love came about_

_Became a weight, there is no doubt_

_So just before I meet my doom_

_I must confide, my love is yours"_

_-Giselle Gonzalez (FE7: The Beginning of the End)-_

"**One Winged Angels"**

By: FenixPhoenix

**Chapter 34: "The Final Piece"**

* * *

**Tifa Lockhart **sighed upon listening to Sephiroth's report. The three former SOLDIER had failed, yet again, in finding the location of the Jenova warriors. It had been three weeks since the attack on the Shera and the subsequent kidnapping of Cid's son. Since then, Tifa had taken complete control of the ship, especially given that its official pilot was reluctant to leave his wife's side.

The first thing she'd ordered had been to try and locate the missing babe. Sephiroth had thus shared a strategy he'd used before, which was using their Jenova cells to track other users nearby. Though they were still not quite on friendly terms, Sephiroth had taught Cloud how to use his Jenova cells with Genesis listening in and adding explanations here and there.

After Cloud had been successful in understanding the concept, Tifa had ordered the ship in a journey around the world while the three warriors focused on locating their targets. All efforts had been futile and Tifa found herself, this time, reluctant to further risk the ex-SOLDIERs' wellbeing –for using their Jenova cells in this way took a great toll on their strength.

"Perhaps it is time to consider other options," Reeve offered, exhaustion evident in the half-moons under his eyes. Tifa knew that some of that was due in large part to how Rie had taken the bleak situation. Tifa couldn't blame him, she was worried as well, they all were.

After their attack, Rie had found herself on the receiving end of Cid's lashing tongue despite her insistence that she'd truly made an effort to stop what had happened. Cid, however, had been so consumed by grief, anger and despair that Rie -by acknowledging that she'd been impotent against Raphael- had just been the outlet needed to release some of his pent-up frustration.

Though Tifa did not approve of what Cid had done, part of her understood it. She only wished that he would have blamed them all in equal amounts rather than piling it all on Rie's shoulders.

"I'm in agreement," Sephiroth interrupted her train of thought. "Wherever they're hiding we have been unable to locate them through my method. I doubt we'll have better luck if we keep this up."

"You're right." Heaving a long sigh, Tifa turned towards the Pilot standing behind the Shera's controls. "Rodriguez, set a course for the WRO base."

"Aye, aye, mam," the young pilot gave a smart salute and proceeded to do as told, "Setting course for the Eastern Continent. We'll get there by nightfall today."

"Are you going to make the announcement?" Reeve queried after a short pause.

It was customary to announce the Shera's moves through the speakers so that the personal in the ship was on the loop about what was going on. Tifa, however, didn't think it was a good idea to do so right now, especially considering the Highwinds' situation.

"Not this time." She spared a glance his way. "I know Cid. If I announce the decision he'll think we're giving up on the search for his son," she reasoned, making her way towards the door with Sephiroth silently on tow. "This is something that it would be better I explain to him in person."

"Spoken like a true leader," Reeve chuckled, smiling tightly before excusing himself to go speak with the pilot.

"It's a good idea. I'm sure Cid will appreciate it," Sephiroth told her as soon as they'd stepped out, placing a hand on her shoulder and squeezing reassuringly. Tifa smiled up at him and took his hand, intertwining her fingers with his. She had a feeling that what came next was going to be tough and she was glad he would be there to lend his support.

As they walked down the hallway, Tifa felt the stress that had accumulated on the back of her neck increasing to the point that it was becoming painful. There were so many things that needed her attention that she was at a complete loss as to where to even start. In all honesty, she was unused to command and the blow Raphael had delivered made her feel even more unqualified than she had before. Her victory over the swarm of monsters had been short lived. In fact, reflecting upon it, it hadn't been a victory at all since it had been nothing but a distraction from the real attack. An attack that had wounded them all deeper than the monsters could have.

"I wish… I wish they would at least name him," Tifa revealed suddenly, surprising even herself. Granted, it was something that had been bothering her, but she'd always been careful to keep her thoughts to herself. "I mean… I… I…" She closed her mouth, her teeth grinding. What to say now? Even if part of her understood Shera's reluctance to give her missing child a name, another part of her was profoundly disturbed. She didn't like calling him 'the baby' as if he was some unimportant nameless being.

Sephiroth glanced at her when she remained silent. His eyes were clear of judgment and that made her breathe a little easier, "I know what you mean, but their decision is understandable considering-"

"But it's like she's giving up already!" Tifa countered and immediately regretted her words. Who was she to judge? If something like that were to have happened to her, would she have done any different? She wanted to believe that she would, but she would never know, she never _wanted_ to know. "F-forget it, please. I was just being inconsiderate… The stress is getting to me, is all."

Sephiroth's expression softened. He pulled her into his arms and gave her a tight hug. She'd needed it. "It'll be alright, Tifa. We'll find a way."

She allowed herself a moment of weakness, holding onto him as though he was her only shelter. Afterwards, she pulled away, smiled and thanked him before continuing on her way. She couldn't afford more than a moment and she knew that soon not even a moment would be allowed. She was the Commander now and she needed to be the pillar of strength for her people.

Sephiroth fell into step behind her, his presence, like always, bringing a sense of comfort to her otherwise tumultuous emotions. When she reached the Highwinds' room, she stopped to gather her scattered wits. Tifa closed her eyes, took a deep breath, clenched and unclenched her hands for a second before knocking on the steely door. She knew that if she wanted, she could just push the button and walk right in –she was one of the few people with the privilege of having access to the entire ship, after all—but she knew better than to intrude.

The door opened to reveal a disheveled looking Cid. The stubble on his cheeks and chin was thicker and longer than she'd ever seen it before. He looked pale and slim and she knew that if he kept this up, he would fall as ill as Shera. Yet, Tifa had not the heart to order him to take a shower and eat a good meal. And rest? Hah! Who was she kidding! She doubted that he was getting more than a couple of hours of sleep and that wasn't going to change anytime soon.

Cid's eyes lit with hope when he took them both in. He stepped aside and ushered them in with a jerky motion of his hands. He was in serious need of a cigarette or sleep, maybe both. Tifa shifted her weight when, turning to face the man, she was confronted with Cid's blue, expectant eyes. When she looked away she detected the immediate change in his aura. His shoulders slumped and his eyes dulled.

Tifa didn't like it. This image was just wrong.

"I've ordered the ship to return to the WRO headquarters," she told him, her tone neutral.

"What! The fuck you are!" Cid hissed angrily, "Goddamit, Tifa! You're the only one that I would trust my family's life with and you're fuckin' desertin' me! You stoppin' the search, aren't you! Fuck, you know what, I'll do it myself!" Sephiroth barred his way when Cid tried to leave. Blue eyes lighted with fury and Tifa decided that, if anything, she preferred that to the dullness from before. "Fuck you, asshole! Get outta the fuckin' way or I'll pummel your ass into the lifestream where you came from!"

"Cid," Tifa warned gently but commandingly, "Calm down."

"Fuck you! Tellin' me to fuckin' calm down! You guys don't give a shit ab-"

The sound of Tifa's hand connecting with Cid's cheek seemed to take a lifetime to die.

"You said you trusted me!" She had wanted her voice to sound calmed, but she was tired and she hated seeing the pain in his eyes –no, not the pain, the _hopelessness_. It was as if he was just waiting for the corpse of his baby! "Do you not know me, Cid? Would you really think that I would _ever_ give up on your child! That I would ever abandon you in your time of need!"

She saw his face twisting like a child's, his eyes welling with tears, his body trembling under the ruthless onslaught of his emotions. Tifa gave a step forward and it was all it took to finally break him. Cid pulled her to him with a force that baffled her, with a need that tightened the strings around her heart. She hugged him back tightly, wishing to keep him from breaking into too many pieces, else they would be unable to put him back together. His baby would need this man strong; Shera needed him to hold on!

His sobs and the moisture of his tears moved her like nothing ever had before. Her arms tightened their hold and she hushed him like she'd done Denzel when the boy had woken after a particularly vivid nightmare.

_Raphael, you are cruel,_ she found herself thinking, hating how easily he had reduced one of her strong warriors into a sobbing child. It was as infuriating as it was painful.

"I'll never give up on your child, Cid. I will never rest until you have him in your arms again," Tifa promised him. The man pulled away, brushing at his eyes, clearly embarrassed by his display. He recovered some of his composure and, when she knew he was back in control, she explained to him that she'd just received word that Reno and Rude had procured some files that might lead them to Raphael's HQ, which was why they needed to go back to the WRO base.

Cid nodded in understanding, apologized for his harsh words and asked her if there was anything he could do. Tifa shook her head. The least she wanted was to keep Cid away from Shera when it wasn't necessary. It was clear that they both needed each others' support and his wife was, by far, taking this blow harder than the rest.

"Just… Cid, try to get some rest and keep Shera from refusing any more meals," Tifa placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "We can't afford having her or you fall ill. You guys need to be strong for your child. It's not a matter of whether he'll come back safe to you or not, is just a matter of when. And I promise I will have him back as soon as I can."

"T-thanks, Teef. I'll take care of her," Cid said, his blue orbs glinting with the beginnings of hope. He patted her hand once and nodded Sephiroth's way curtly before turning around and heading to the back of the room, where they could see Shera's balled form on the bed. Tifa wondered if she'd heard her husband breaking. She hoped that she didn't. Too much despair, Tifa knew, would be the end of her.

Motioning to Sephiroth they left the room. The image that had greeted her when she'd reached Shera's room after the attack was, even now, etched into her mind. It had been a shock finding her covered in blood and crying inconsolably on the bed. Rie, for her part, had been standing on a corner, unmoving, unsure of what to do. Her body had been bruised here and there but she was otherwise unharmed, a thing that somewhat bothered a part of Tifa. This was the second time that Rie had escaped unscathed a meeting with Raphael and she couldn't help but wonder why.

"We'll find him, right?" Tifa murmured, forcibly pulling herself out of her morbid thoughts.

Sephiroth took her hand and squeezed, "If anyone can find a way, it's you."

Tifa felt her resolution increasing at his words. They had dealt with painful stuff before and they'd pull through, so why would this be any different? Not to mention, she had a hell of a team. There was no way in hell that any of them would allow harm to come to the missing babe. No, they would not fail, she would not allow herself to even think of the possibility. She was their leader now and, more importantly, she believed in them.

That night they reached the base. WRO members came to greet them and they were led to their rooms. Tifa didn't get much rest, but she was at least glad to note that the bed was much more comfortable than the one on the ship.

A week later, Tifa parted ways with Sephiroth. He'd been charged with training some recruits by Reeve and, though he wasn't very thrilled by the idea, he'd accepted without needing much coaxing. Tifa guessed that, though he was better at hiding it, Raphael's move had delivered a blow at him as well. After all, Sephiroth was supposed to be the most brilliant strategist of Gaia, was he not?

Tifa scowled. The more she thought about Raphael the more her mood soured. _To think I even thought that maybe you weren't so bad!_ Kicking herself mentally for her past false impression, Tifa made her way towards Reeve's office. She found the man, who by the looks of it had been up and about since way earlier than her, stepping into the elevator one floor above from her.

"Mornin'," Tifa greeted.

"Good Morning, Tifa. Did you sleep well?" he asked and she was sure that he could probably detect her tiredness just as easily she could detect his. Truth be told, nobody had been getting any sleep, not since _that_ day.

"I slept as best I could," she confided and, wanting to change the subject, asked, "By the way, have your researchers extracted anything important from the files that Reno and Rude brought back?" The Turks had returned shortly before they had and, by orders of Reeve, the documents had been handed to the WRO's Intelligence division.

"They are still cataloguing the information, but I've already received some reports that look promising," Reeve declared, signaling for her to step into his office once he's opened the door. "I'll send them to you after we finished reviewing where we're standing budget wise. If this war drags too long, we'll be forced to find ways to raise money in order to keep our people well equipped."

Tifa signaled her acceptance with a nod and stepped into Reeve's office. It was bigger than hers by far. When they'd arrived yesterday, he'd offered to yield it to her but she had quickly turned him down. The idea of having so big a space to simply read reports seemed an excess. Not to mention, it sort of intimidated her a bit, which was why she'd opted instead to take the reports to the room she shared with Sephiroth and doing her work there. When she was lucky, she actually got him to read them to her, reminding her of that time when it had been only the two of them lingering in his apartment.

When prompted, Tifa took the chair across from Reeve and proceeded to listen to the list of problems that had been sent to them. She offered her opinion here and there, amazed to realize that the skills developed when she'd began to manage Seventh Heaven were actually coming in useful. It was, however, a tedious task which took three whole hours to complete. Tifa felt the beginning of a headache forming by the end of it.

Just as they were wrapping everything up, there was a knock on the door. Reeve touched a pad on his desk and the door swooshed open to reveal a solemn looking Genesis. Without a word he came inside and practically crumbled on the chair beside Tifa's. It was almost unnatural to see him looking so…_defeated_.

"No change, huh?" Reeve guessed, grabbing the papers they'd spread all over his desk and compiling them together into a neat pile. Leaning back on his comfy chair, he reflexively brushed at his dark bangs. His hair had gotten a bit longer. It almost reached his shoulders now. Tifa couldn't help wondering what a certain ninja thought of it.

"She's like a turtle!" Genesis responded with a dark scowl.

"A turtle?" Tifa frowned. She figured that they were talking about Rie since Genesis had taken it upon himself to try to 'bring her back' to her old self, but she wasn't quite following the metaphor. Rie was, after all, someone who got things done fairly quickly.

"I mean…," he raked a hand through his hair as he tried to find a way to better explain his thoughts. "It's like someone threw a rock at her, she got scared and retreated into her damn shell but she won't come out! No matter how much I coax her –and believe me I do a good job of it!- she's sealed tight inside that head of hers!"

Genesis irritation was, Tifa knew, a mask to hide how much it sacred him that she would not return to the way she was. Though Tifa had been thrilled by the change Genesis had brought in Rie, she knew that nobody else appreciated or missed her former self as much as he did. It was obvious that his feelings ran deep and there was no doubt in her mind that he _loved_ her.

Tifa sighed softly remembering that day again. After Cid had found out what had happened, he'd pretty much blamed Rie for trying to do things on her own instead of finding help. Shera, though she'd been successful in somewhat calming her husband, had been unable to speak for or to Rie at all. Even to Tifa it was obvious that some part of Shera blamed Rie. It wasn't a farfetched thought. When people were in pain it was just easier to point their finger at someone else, even if it wasn't right.

But Rie's lack of social skills had caused her to take the words to heart and they had devastated her. No matter how much everyone had tried to explain to her that they hadn't meant it, that it was just the pain talking, she'd become more and more detached. It reached a point where she stopped talking and even stopped eating altogether; prompting Genesis to snap at her in more than one occasion and force feed her at the expense of being glared at by the woman he loved. Cid, grudgingly accepting that it was partially his fault –there had been a lot of pressure coming from too many fronts to resist- had eventually apologized. But whether it was because the apology wasn't heartfelt or because she just hadn't listened to him, Rie's situation had not changed.

Worried by her diminishing health, Reeve had done the only thing he expected would help in bringing some life back into her. He'd given her things to do. Rie, thus, had thrown herself into each and every task Reeve had give her, allowing nothing else to distract her, not even Genesis.

"That cunt of Rapahel!" Genesis slapped the desk, making both Tifa and Reeve jump a little with sudden surprise. "What the fuck does he even want with the kid, anyways? What's the point of kidnapping a baby that's going be more a pain in the ass to take care of!"

Tifa placed a hand on his arm in a calming gesture. Genesis shook his head and gave her an apologetic smile. Tifa smiled back reassuringly. Everyone was on edge and she wondered if this was precisely what Raphael had wanted. The thought also led her to wonder, not for the first time, exactly what kind of verbal exchange had Raphael and Rie sustained. The latter had said nothing of it and it was only through Shera that Tifa had found out, but no matter how many times she'd asked, Rie had seemed only to retreat even more into herself when the subject came up.

"I've also been thinking about that," Reeve began, leaning back on his seat and intertwining his fingers in a thoughtful gesture. "I might be mistaken, but perhaps it has to do with the fact that Shera had fallen ill with the geostigma around the time that she got pregnant."

"She did?" Genesis' eyebrows rose at the revelation, then met on an uncertain frown as he processed the information.

Tifa's mind quickly hopped on the same train. "The Geostigma was due to the contamination of the lifestream by the Jenova cells that fell in after Cloud threw Sephiroth over the reactor, didn't it?"

Reeve nodded, "That's how the theory goes. Our scientists figured that the people who came in contact with this contamination absorbed some of the cells, but their bodies were unable to accommodate them and so they began dying."

"So if Shera had been pregnant at the time, then it's possible that the baby had absorbed some of the geostigma," Genesis mused out loud.

"And since his immunity had just started building, unlike his mother's, he would potentially be able to accommodate the cells," Sephiroth said as he stepped into the room, following nicely. He leaned on a wall and added, "I've been thinking about that too."

"So… what does this mean exactly?" Tifa asked fisting her hands unconsciously, as though preparing herself for an unwanted answer. "I mean, what will Raphael do to him?"

"Maybe the same things those three remnants tried to do," Reeve offered.

Tifa's jaw clenched. This was no good. Would Raphael even care about what might happen to the baby if he decided to extract the Jenova cells? Would the baby even survive the procedure? She closed her eyes, wishing she had taken care of the damn monsters before this had happened. It was her fault, wasn't it? She knew that Shera was coming to the end of her pregnancy. She should have been more considerate and should have ordered Cid to stay with her rather than pilot the ship!

Her mind kept shoving 'what if's' into the forefront of her mind mercilessly, prompting her headache to throb its way into her temples. A hand on her shoulder, however, brought her guilt-trip to a sudden end.

"We'll find the baby before they lay a hand on him," Sephiroth assured her and, again, he did so with so much confidence that she couldn't help but believe him. Yes, she couldn't allow them to harm the baby! She couldn't allow them to potentially break him like those scientists had done Zariel!

_Would you be so cruel as to turn him into her, Raphael?_ Her mind asked, recalling the pain that had seemed so genuine when he'd shown her the memories of the young woman. Part of her, a small but naïve one, latched onto the hope that maybe, just maybe he _wouldn't_ dare spoil an innocent life.

**-o0o-**

**Genesis Rhasphados **leaned his head on the wall, pressing his heated forehead against the cool marble. He closed his eyes, allowing the spray of water to pound on his back. He wished the water pressure was stronger still because it was doing nothing to help in massaging the stiff muscles of his back and arms.

He bit down on his lower lip surprised and frankly a little irritated to feel something stinging in his eyes, calling unwelcomed tears forth. What a weak heart he had if he was going to allow this little bump in the road to break his resolve. This was nothing! He'd dealt with so much more that this should be a child's game!

Genesis straightened, washing his hair, massaging his scalp with tense fingers. He had helped her before. It was because of him that she'd managed to grasp what emotions were in the first place. And he was not about to allow all that work to go down the drain, not if he had something to say about it. Yes, of course! All she needed was a little time and then she'll be back to her smiling and glaring and kissing and asking about Cato.

Genesis hand fisted and he punched the wall when he remembered the pained look she'd sported after Cid's tantrum. Damn man! Didn't he know how very fragile the girl was? Despite how much he'd taught her, Rie was still a child when dealing with most adult situations, especially some of this magnitude. Like any child she would get over Cid's words and Shera's silent resentment, he was positive. It would, of course, take time but he would be there, right beside her, letting her know with his never-wavering presence that she was not alone, that she was not forsaken.

He twisted the water shut and stepped outside. He grabbed a nearby towel and dried himself draping it across his shoulders before pulling on his underwear and pants. He was exhausted. Like Sephiroth, he'd been given the task of training new recruits for most of the day. After that, he'd gone over to talk to Reeve, feeling the need to seek empathy from the only source he could hope to find it.

Genesis was not exactly close with the scientist, but he figured that if anyone could relate to how much Rie's current state bothered him it would be Reeve. After all, he was the one who'd found her in the first place. In fact, Genesis had known –ever since he'd found her in that hospital crying her heart out because he'd refused to take her call—that he was the closest thing to a family that Rie had. A… surrogate father, perhaps?

"Yes, like a father," Genesis told his reflection, effectively putting a stop to the feeling of jealousy that, even now, still managed to wriggle its way into his heart whenever he thought of Reeve's relationship with Rie. "I'm an idiot."

He shook his head at his moment of ultimate inanity before stepping outside the bathroom and into the Spartan room he'd been assigned. He draped the towel he'd placed around his shoulders on a nearby chair. He was exhausted. Right after his talk with Reeve and Tifa, he had felt so frustrated that, when he'd encountered a stoic looking Vincent lost in thought on the roof of the building, Genesis had challenged him to a duel. The man seemed to have been about to turn him down, but Genesis had a way with words and, before long, he had Vincent all flared up and ready to take him down.

His hand unconsciously sought the healed wound on his upper arm, near his shoulder. The skin was still tender from where he'd sew it close with magic. Vincent had been one hell of an opponent, and Genesis was positive that, if that had been a real battle, both of them would have maimed each other at some point in time.

He lowered himself heavily onto his bed and leaned his elbows on his knees, weaving his fingers and looking at them as he lost himself in his recollections. He couldn't help thinking about the way Vincent's face had, for a split second, just before an attack, twisted with savage rage. The way the former Turk had fought made Genesis wonder if he was also frustrated about something. What were those hints of disgust that flashed through his blood-red eyes? They weren't directed at Genesis, rather they seemed directed at himself. Part of the swordsman, however, wondered if Vincent's rampant emotions were also partly about Rie.

_No, that's not it_, a voice inside him cooed. The events that had transpired in Mount Nibel came marching to the forefront of his mind. He fought the gag reflex as his nose got all confused and almost picked up the smell of burning flesh.

Could that really be it? Was part of Vincent regretting killing the girl in such a gruesome fashion? Genesis had to admit that he wouldn't have expected someone on their side –the good side- to bestow such a merciless death on someone, even if that person was an enemy that wanted them dead.

"Ah, it's useless to think about it," Genesis fell on his back, pushing all thoughts aside. He wanted to sleep. After a while of looking at the grey, dark ceiling with a blank mind, he felt his muscles relaxing and his lids drooping. He was just about to succumb to his sought after sleep when there was a knock on his door.

Cursing colorfully, he got to his feet and, not bothering to throw a shirt on, padded towards the entrance and pushed the panel –with more force than was necessary— to open the damn door. When the steely barrier disappeared, he found himself staring at none other than Rie.

Taken aback, Genesis blinked, wondering if he was already dreaming and, if he was, he told himself he didn't want to wake up. Because she'd finally come looking for him and, if the slight blush decorating her cheeks was any indication, she seemed to finally be back to normal.

"May… may I come in?" She asked a little unsure.

Genesis was quick to move out of the way and watched entranced as she stepped inside. His eyes were glued to her lithe form and they followed her as she made her way towards his unmade bed. She was truly a lovely creature and he was reminded once again why it had pained him so much when she'd shied at his touch.

Genesis hesitated on what to do next for a split second before pushing the panel in order to close the door. Whatever was going to happen next he didn't want any interruption, especially because the promise of pulling her out of her shell was becoming more probable by the second.

Suddenly feeling a little nervous, he shoved his hands on the pockets of his pants and stared at her in the silence that followed. It wasn't an awkward silence, he was quick to note. Rather it was still the silence of their unvoiced truce, the one that had been born after the attack. He just hoped that she wouldn't level on him one of her glares, she had no idea how much it truly hurt him when she did it.

Genesis shook himself out of his thoughts, wondering if he was assuming too much out of this one visit. After all, she hadn't stated the reason for coming yet. Still, not quite ready to make a move and possibly break the truce, he studied her some more.

She was sitting on the edge of his bed, looking down at the space between her feet and apparently finding the rug very interesting because she had yet to look up. Since she wasn't complaining about him closing the door, Genesis figured that it had been an acceptable gesture and thus approached her with a bit more confidence.

"Rie, are you alright?" he asked, sitting down beside her. He positioned himself close enough to provide comfort if needed, but far enough to not intrude into her personal space. The feeling of déjà vu invaded him. He had done the exact same thing when he'd found her on that hospital floor. He almost smiled at the memory.

Almighty Shiva! He wanted to hold her but was afraid that if he did he would chase her away, making the turtle retreat into her thick shell. He didn't even dare to try and caress her cheek or even touch her at all, for that matter. The fact that she'd come to him of her own volition was enough for now. It had to be if he hoped to have her back.

"I…," she fell silent and he noticed her hands balling on the fabric of the covers he'd thrown aside. Instinctively he reached for her hand and felt her tense when his fingers clasped around her fist. He soften his hold but couldn't bring himself to server it.

She gasped softly.

He tensed slightly.

Slowly, so very slowly she turned to him. There were tears welling in her eyes and there was so much grief and pain and yet… within that pain there was something more, something he couldn't quite place. A voice inside of him tried to raise an alarm, but his senses shut down on him. Because before he'd given more thought to it, her lips were touching his, demanding his undivided attention. He yielded all control, welcoming the madness. Genesis kissed her back passionately, his eyelids closing as he let his pent-up desire throw everything else to the wind. Damn the consequences, he wanted this, he wanted her!

"I missed you," he let that small bit of truth slip past his lips in a short moment between kisses. He felt her pushing him back so that he was on his back with her on top. Genesis' eyes flew open when he felt her hands on his temples, they were warm.

Too warm.

"I'm sorry," she whispered and he realized too late what she was doing. He tried to stop her, he tried to wriggle out of her grasp. More than that he tried to ask her why, but the word died on his tongue before it could roll out of his lips.

With that echo in his mind, with those tearful eyes of hers as the last image, everything else went inevitably blank. And he realized in that split second before numbness, that what he'd read in her eyes had been _regret_.

**-o0o-**

**Castiel** produced out of a hidden pocket in his coat the bag of evidence he'd taken from her so long ago. The silver hair that had been inside was long gone, but for some reason he'd been unwilling to throw the bag away. No, that was wrong. He knew exactly why he couldn't throw it away. It was because she was part of _her_ and he was reluctant to let go even such a small portion of that woman.

_He was sitting on the corner, leaning an arm on his bended knee. They had punished him again for his lack of cooperation and the muscles of his back were still pounding from the beating he'd received. He smirked as he recalled the horror in the face of that one man he'd managed to punch before he'd been brought down. He could still feel the nose breaking under his fist, the sound adding coals to keep the fire of anger in the pit of his stomach alive. If he'd had it his way, he would have pushed his nose all the way into his skull, but the guard's reflexes were good. How could they not? They'd been showered with mako and tasked with keeping him under control. _

_He brushed his blood-shot eyes, wondering if Azia had been told of what happened. Regret was quick to shove some of his satisfaction aside. He didn't like her knowing that such a savage part of him existed. She was so pure that he was afraid that one day she would realize that his darkness could taint her and she would leave him here, alone and forgotten. _

"_Cas," his head snapped up, his eyes squinting to chase away the shadows in order to better see her. "Are you alright?"_

_He grunted softly as he stood up, his heart pounding. She'd come! Despite probably knowing that he'd hurt someone, she had still come! His lips quirked and his eyes soften as he approached the glass wall of his cage. She was right there, just beyond this crystal barrier. _

_She was beautiful. _

"_You look weary, Azia," he pointed out, noting with concern that she'd not only lost another shade of color but that she looked slimmer as well. She had never said it, but he knew she was sick. Again he felt his heart aching at the thought. _

_She chuckled at him and waved her hand in a laidback fashion, as if she didn't want to talk about such a mundane topic. Smiling brightly at him, she made light of the situation, like she'd always done before, "Come now, Cas. That expression doesn't suite you at all. You'll get wrinkles if you keep it up!" _

_He tried to wipe away the pain in his golden orbs, to soften the tighten muscles around his eyes. But he couldn't. How cruel! It should be him the one near death's door! Because no matter how much she avoided saying it, it was painfully clear to him that the hand of death was just about to close around her fragile frame. _

_Her expression softened upon noticing his internal struggle and she placed a hand on the surface of the glass. Castiel did the same, wishing he could touch her at least once._

"_How long do you have?" he blurted, leaning his forehead on the cool surface. He didn't know anymore if he truly wanted to know. _

_She smiled, this time more sadly, and simply said, "I'll be sure to wait for you, Cas."_

"_Don't say that!" he closed his eyes as tears came unbidden into them. He hated this! How fucked-up was this world! How could the Goddess of this damn, pitiful Gaia allowed such ruthlessness to befall them! Was it not enough that he had to suffer everyday in captivity? Did she really have to take her as well! _

_His eyes flew open with unbound surprise when he felt her hand on his cheek. He turned with wide eyes and there she was, right there with him, inside his crystal cage. _

"_How?" he asked and she showed him the keycard she'd used. She offered it to him, but he didn't move, he couldn't move. _

"_I managed to snatch it from one of the doctors," she explained, "it'll only work tonight because tomorrow he'll probably report it and it'll become useless." She grabbed his hand. Her touch was warm and comforting. Firmly she placed the flimsy card on his open palm and forced his fingers to close around it. "I've slipped a sleeping potion on the guards' meals outside. They'll be asleep until past midnight. You have four hours." Her silver eyes jumped from his trembling hand to his tearful eyes. _

"_Come with me," Castiel pretty much begged, his hand closing on hers. He wanted to hug her but he was too scared. What if by touching her further he sentenced her to a lifetime of despair? His dark thoughts and fear evaporated when her hand clasped around his, holding him with as much force as he was holding her. _

_Could she really feel the same way? Did he dare hope?_

_He leaned forward until his forehead was touching hers. She didn't move back and he was grateful, for he didn't think he could take any kind of rejection from her. She was all there was for him to look forward to. If not for her, he would have given up long ago on his life –on his sanity. _

"_I can't," she said, her tone so soft he almost missed it. His golden orbs trailed towards the floor, focusing on the small space between their bodies. So close. "I won't survive outside," she explained, possibly wanting to clear away the doubts that she didn't want to go with him. She pulled her hand away and grabbed his head, forcing him to look her straight on the face. "You should be free, Castiel. You should go and live the rest of your life in peace and happiness. And I…" her eyes filled with tears and they rolled down her cheeks in thick beads, "I promise you that when you are done, I will be waiting for you in the Castle in the skies."_

_He shook his head and did what he'd always dreamt of doing. He pulled her into his arms protectively, wishing that he could give his life for hers. Wishing that he could bring down her cruel, dark fate! _

"_I will never leave you, Azia. I love you," he confided. He cried when he felt her lips on his. They tasted sweeter than he'd ever imagined. He didn't want the touch –the feeling to end. _

"_Then be mine tonight," she whispered, pulling him to the floor with her. He was careful not to crush her with his need. He treated her with a gentleness he hadn't known he was capable of. And in that night he gave himself to her without holding anything back. In that night, he understood what it meant to become one. _

_In that night Castiel allowed himself to love someone for the first time… and for the last. _

The swordsman snapped out of his thoughts upon hearing a set of loud footsteps approaching. He quickly brushed away the couple of treacherous tears that had escaped him. No matter how much time had passed by, his heart still ached for the only woman that had made him feel worthy of life.

Azia.

"It's time," Uriel said as he popped his silver-topped head inside the room. His all-knowing eyes studied him for a while making Castiel glare at him. Unfortunately, the bigger man had never been intimidated by him, or by any other for that matter. "Are you sure you are up for this? Your wounds have barely healed. I could ask-"

Castiel tsked and pushed the man aside carelessly, stalking down the hall and towards the room where he knew Raphael awaited. He pulled the door open, not bothering to knock, and made his way towards the garden where his older brother tended to spend most of his day. He was watering the plants, completely at peace.

"At last, my last piece is ready to come back," Raphael said, standing up and turning to face him with a peaceful smile on his face.

Castiel rolled the shoulder that the tin-man had dislocated, hearing it pop. "Don't worry, I'll bring her back safe and sound."

Raphael cocked his head to the side ever so slightly, "Castiel… I've been meaning to ask. Does it pain you that she wears her face?"

Castiel would have glared had the question come from anybody else, but this was Raphael and he didn't have the heart to be mean to him. After all, Raphael had saved him, he had protected him from the pain of Azia's loss. But what was he supposed to say? Did it pain him? He didn't know…

"Well, though it is true that she is a part of her," Raphael began, placing a hand on his shoulder. It was a comforting gesture. He squeezed, "you must still remember that she is not _her_. You must not confuse the two or you will be heartbroken again."

Castiel moved back, cast away his doubts and smirked. "That won't happen." _I cannot love anymore, remember, brother?_

Yes. It didn't matter if he was attracted to her because she wore Azia's face, he would never be _her_. She was gone. She was waiting for him in their Castle on the sky where, if he was lucky, he would meet her again one day. However, that didn't mean that this other girl was not important to him in a way. After all, she was part of Azia and, because of that if nothing else, he would protect her.

_But that's not why you pointed it out, is it?_ A voice inside him stated. No. What his older brother was doing was warning him against breaking one of their rules. Fraternization between the members of their group, after all, was the only thing Raphael had forbidden. Castiel had a feeling that the order came from mother more than from his brother, but he'd always refrained from asking. It wasn't something that interested him enough to gamble mother's anger at any rate.

"I'll be off then," he said, ordering his red wing out of his back.

Raphael smiled, "Safe trip."

With that, Castiel disappeared, leaving behind a weak whirlwind of feathers.

**-o0o-**

**Sephiroth Crescent**'shand loosed the hole on his glass and it shattered on the floor, making Tifa look up from where she'd been bent over one of her many reports. His Jenova cells had stirred and now they were dancing inside of him, wriggling like a pack of sliding snakes.

"What is it?" she asked, sprinting to action when he moved over to the closet to retrieve his weapon. He glanced at her as she pulled on her fighting gloves, the material she'd equipped them with glinting on the surface.

"Someone's here," he explained curtly, running out into the highway with Tifa hot on his heels. He knew that there was no need to further elaborate on this, his sense of urgency would be enough to convey the magnitude of the threat. He spared a part of his mind to focus solely on the information he was retrieving from his Jenova cells while keeping an eye out for hidden enemies. The least they needed would be another ambush.

He frowned as his feet swallowed the distance to the place where the hostile Jenova user had teleported to. It was somewhat familiar. Yes, that's right! He'd felt the remnants of this signature before, outside of the Nibelheim mansion after their battle in Mt. Nibel.

The General slid around the corner, hoping he would make it in time. This man was the same man who'd beaten Vincent Valentine to the floor. The situation was looking bleaker by the second if he was allowed to run rampant inside their HQ.

"Sound the alarms," he shot back, pressing his pace, part of him wanting to leave Tifa behind. It was selfish of him, but he didn't want her to be near the enemy if he could help it. He heard the alarms blaring soon after and knew that she'd stopped to pull one of the many levers around the floor. The auxiliary lights turned on, draping everything in a red hue that seemed to add to the ominous atmosphere surrounding him.

He heard the sound of more footsteps behind him. Already people were coming awake, some of them stumbling out of their rooms half-asleep and half-dressed but armed to the teeth. Cloud and Vincent were soon running on each of his sides, weapons at the ready, faces set with determination.

"What's going on?" Cloud asked, his blue eyes scanning their surroundings, looking for whatever it was that had raised the alarms.

"Can't you feel it?" he asked, pointing his sword up ahead, where the signature –the presence was blazing like a bright flame. His Jenova cells shuddered with longing, wishing to reunite with those of the enemy. Sephiroth pushed aside the desire, concentrating only on the anger that was welling inside of him.

How dare they come again into their midst!

"There's only one," Cloud pointed out needlessly, voicing the question that a small part of Sephiroth had also been wondering about. Why just one person indeed? And if this was some kind of strategic attack, then why not invade Tifa's room? Wouldn't she be the priority? For what reason exactly would they toss their one chance at a surprise attack? What could be more important than the leader of their enemies?

Using his superior speed, Vincent glided ahead of them, his cloak swirling around his body as though it had a life of its own. He didn't push the button to open the door, not wishing to lose time if it was locked perhaps. Instead, he brought out death penalty and shot his way inside without losing stride, pushing what was left of the door down with his golden claw. Sephiroth and Cloud followed with the rest of AVALANCHE still some ways away.

When Sephiroth stepped inside, however, he froze right beside an unmoving Vincent Valentine.

"Shit," Cloud whispered, stopping right behind him, his hand tightening on his broad-sword.

"Step away from her," Sephiroth warned, preparing himself to strike if given the slightest indication of not complying with the order. Laughter answered him but to his, and everyone else's surprise, it wasn't coming from the redheaded that had invaded their HQ. Instead, it came from the figure sitting behind the desk, regarding them with mismatched eyes.

**To be Continued…**

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**AN: **Oh, a twist! Anyhow, please don't forget to **review** if you get the chance! Also, I've been meaning to do more art for this fic so if you have any suggestions feel free to let me know!


	35. Fruits of Betrayal

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any of its characters. I am just borrowing them for a while.

**Author's notes: **Hello! Finally this chapter is done! There will be some more action next chapter, I promise. BTW, I have a poll going on in my profile for what my next project will be once I finished this. If you are interested, your vote will be appreciated. Thank you to all who've faved this, read this, put it on alert and special thanks to those who take the time to review!

**Quick thanks to reviewers: **Blue Deity, ITheMemoryKeeper, Acolyte of the Blood Moon, tracyboo _and_ beloveddaughteroftheking.

**Typos pointed out by**: _…_

**~Enjoy** and don't forget to **review**!

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"_Each betrayal contains a perfect moment, a coin stamped heads or tails with salvation on the other side."_

_-Barbara Kingsolver-_

"**One Winged Angels"**

By: FenixPhoenix

**Chapter 35: "Fruits of Betrayal"**

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**Castiel **spread the wing he'd coiled around himself before neatly folding it behind him. With interest not devoid of suspicion, he took in his unfamiliar surroundings. He had to blink and wait for his eyes to adjust to the dim lightning of the room first. Having done that, he did quick work on finding his target. In fact, he didn't even need to put too much effort into it since she was sitting before a computer, typing furiously. So immersed was she on her work that she was either oblivious to his presence or indifferent.

Careful not to make much noise, else he triggered in her some kind of defensive mechanism; he approached the slim, hunched figure. He knew that his Jenova cells had most probably given his location away to his distanced brothers by now, and therefore he should hurry and get the hell out. Yet, despite his rising anxiety, he couldn't help taking a moment to study her. Perhaps it was because, unlike the previous times, he now knew exactly who she was and how she'd come into existence. Or maybe it was because he now knew why she'd looked so familiar when he'd first set his eyes on her. Then again, maybe it was because part of him –a small but insistent part—was still clinging to the hope of finding his lover in her, even if it was in a glimpse.

_Their resemblance is striking, _he found himself thinking absentmindedly as he traced with his eyes the sharp contours of her face. But he reminded himself that this girl was not Azia and that he would do best to remember it.

Indeed. They might look alike but they weren't the same. The biggest physical difference between them resided in the eyes. Whereas' Azia's had been soft and silver, this girl sported the harshness of his own, especially in her golden eye. It was just one of the many things that made his heart ache with the wondering of a what-if. And how could it not? She was, after all, a mocked-up version of what Azia's and his baby would have looked like, wasn't she?

"So… as promised, you have come to take me back," she greeted monotonously, closing the window she'd been working on and shutting the computer down. She threw her head back on her seat, stretching her back as her eyes dug lifelessly into the ceiling.

Unsure, Castiel crossed his arms and settled for a curt, "I have."

"I see," she heaved a long and soft sigh, but didn't move a muscle.

Unable to keep his interest at bay, he asked, "Do you know who you are now, Si-?" Castiel cut himself off, completely at a loss as to what to call her. No matter how true it was that she was a sister to them, he couldn't bring himself to call her that. She was… She was something else! She was-

Her belly-shaking laughter interrupted his thoughts. It was a short, loud, cynical sound which reminded him very much of his own form of spiteful amusement. This anger at the world they clearly both shared, could it also be a product of genetics?

"Who I am?" she turned her mismatched eyes on him, the indentation of the scar made deeper by the shadows sliding into her face. But it was his eyes what froze him. There was nothing inside them but a deep void of emptiness. "Don't you mean _what_ I am?"

The poison in her voice made him flinch. His hands fisted by his sides, knuckles turning white with his rising anger. Once more he was confronted with the truth. This world… this world was fucked-up! Evil and good didn't reside in two different sides, like some damn coin that was flipped at a whim.

Take them, for instance. The people against them kept insisting that him and his brothers were evil because they wished to throw everything into oblivion. Hiding under a false banner of justice, the WRO and their allies joined to fight them at every turn as though this world was worth saving! When the truth was, this world was spoiled goods, turned more rotten with each generation.

Were they all really so blind? Could they not see that the hell they were so afraid to step inside was all around them, growing and expanding and consuming and destroying! This fucking world had betrayed him and his brothers and his sisters and so many nameless, countless others! There were bodies buried underneath each and every laboratory, mass graves for people who had found nothing but pain in this world. This damn, mediocre world that so many people were willing to die for, had chewed innocent bystanders and spat them into its surface to suffer some more until they hadn't been able to move or cry or scream anymore!

This world was nothing but a pitiless hole of misery and despair!

The proof of this was written in blood and splattered across the damn globe! The proof was, even now, written in that stoic face staring back at him. For even this girl, who'd thought she'd been spared, once she'd remembered what a group of damn humans with a God complex had done, she'd been broken, just like all the rest of them.

Humans tell their children that monsters reside in dark places, hoping that with that warning they would keep them from losing their way. But monsters are everywhere, even walking below the bright blue sky. This entire fucking Gaia is filled with those monsters and the only way to get rid of them is to destroy them all.

Hate breeds hate, wasn't that the idealistic bullshit people liked to preach? Well, Castiel knew from firsthand experience that the truth was monsters bred monsters and, in order to stop the vicious circle, a monster is needed to destroy all the others. Hate breeds hate because it's the only way to fight it, to stop it, to rip it into pieces!

And peace?

Peace is the gift of their most revered mother. Peace is what resides in the embrace of oblivion. Peace is what he and his family had promised to bestow upon the world, even if that same world hated them.

"You…," He reached out to her, wanting to touch her soul and, strange as the idea was, comfort it. He wanted to let her know that she was not alone in her path of darkness, "You are one of us," he pronounced, using the same words he'd heard before spoken by Raphael. "You are not alone." Yes, like him, she was a monster too, but every monster was, in the end, a human. And no human wanted to be alone, she could be no exception.

He frowned when Rie's lips quirked in an awkward smile. "One of you?" she mocked drily. "How can I be one of you? You were born, I was created. No. What am I? I am… something without a past and without a future. I am nothing but a remnant of a failed experiment. Yes, that's what I am. I am just an… echo of an existence that could have been important to someone but which was left to rot aw-"

"Shut up!" Castiel snarled, grabbing her by the front of her jacket and leaning forward so that their faces were level. If she was afraid of his unvoiced warning, she didn't show it. In fact, she seemed far away from being impressed. What had they done to her? Would she turn out as unapproachable as Oriel and Zariel had been? "Don't speak of what you do not know. Don't speak of _her_ existence…"

"Oh," her mismatched eyes became slits which seemed to dig straight into the inner recesses of his mind. "So you knew her then?" She touched her face with trembling fingers, caressing the scar across her cheek before weakly clawing at it. He wanted to stop her, but didn't, couldn't. Her eyes… it was like looking at a mirror after he'd found her dead, cold, mutilated body. She wore the same dejected expression…

"Her name was Azia," he responded despite his apprehension. His fingers slackened their hold until he let go of her completely. He gave a step back, wishing the distance would break whatever spell she'd had him under that had made that short sentence slip out. He didn't want to talk about her, least of all to this woman who knew nothing about him. "Let's cut the crap. This ain't the time to talk. We should get going…," he hesitated but, discarding his troublesome emotions, he offered her his hand, "Come on, I ain't got all day."

Before she could accept his outstretched limb, six consecutive shots were fired at the door. The groan of metal followed soon after. When the door was brought down, three warriors filed inside. Castiel felt his Jenova cells dancing as he recognized Cloud and Sephiroth among the party interrupting their escape.

Keeping outwardly impassive, he cursed himself and his damn luck as his hand sought the hilt of his sword. He'd known before coming that encountering resistance was a possibility, which is why he'd been given the order of going in and out with no wasted time.

"Step away from her," Sephiroth Crescent ordered, his hand tightening on his long weapon. Castiel had yet to cross swords with him but, considering he was still recovering from the last fight, he was certain that if he was engaged, his chances of leaving the building alive would be reduced slim to none.

To his and everyone else's surprise, however, the girl, who'd yet to leave her chair, suddenly started laughing. The dry sound of harsh amusement threw everyone off balance and Castiel had to wonder if perhaps this girl was not as useless as he'd assumed. Could she be buying them time to think of a way out?

"_Now_ you come!" she whispered with something akin to melancholy. Her index finger idly traced her scar as her lifeless gaze swept them once before it focused on Sephiroth. "This is… most unfortunate…"

"What are you-," Cloud began but was interrupted by the small commotion caused by Tifa when she finally stepped inside.

Her wine eyes quickly took in the situation and Castiel was reminded that she was indeed their leader when, unfazed, she fixed her gaze on the inanimate scientist. "Rie, what the hell is going on here!"

The girl, Rie, rose to her full height and her lips pressed into a thin, stern line. She tore her eyes from the confused group she used to regard as friends and posed them on him instead. "It's enough. Shall we go, then?"

Castiel's eyes snapped towards Tifa when she attempted to give a step forward. He saw resolution dancing in her eyes and it was so intense, that he thought she would break the arms of those around her. But the Vamp joined in to help Sephiroth restrain the fiery minx.

Still struggling with a fury of a tempestuous storm, she yelled, "Rie, what are you doing!" With mild interest, the girl turned to her. Taking that action as incentive, Tifa was quick to appeal, "Listen to me, we are friends! Do not do this! Do not leave us-"

Castiel attempted to grab Rie in order to leave, afraid that the woman's words would drive home, but the girl pulled her arm away from his grasp. Mismatched eyes filled with a hint of something that could have been pain or resentment and her hands grabbed a hold of her legs, as if unconsciously telling herself to keep still.

"Friends?" she echoed sardonically, chuckling mirthlessly. "Tifa Lockhart, only humans can have friends!" Her left arm clutched her right one, fingers digging into the sleeve of her jacket, "I am not a human! I am a _thing_!" She said the last with visual disgust, her face cringing. "I am an echo, created to be a _pet_ for the human race!" She let her arm dropped to her side limply and Castiel detected in the further slumping of her shoulders the clear melody of defeat. "Rie was a beautiful lie, but Azriel has knows better." Her voice trembled, threatening to break, and so she added in a tenuous whisper, "I remember nothing because I have nothing because I am nothing."

"GAWD! What are you saying, you emo pirate!" a young woman with short hair, who'd also made her way inside, screamed at her. Her voice turned pitchy with emotions which also brought tears to her dark eyes. "Stop saying stupid things and just…just come back already! Okay? Please…?"

Azriel stared at them for a while and Castiel wondered if she would cry and repent and desert him and Raphael for good. Part of him feared to lose the only thing he had left of Azia, even as another part told him that having her stay away might be the best thing for his sanity. In the end, it was a baseless fear. Azriel didn't smile or snort or cry, instead she turned around to face him, her eyes recovering the emptiness that he'd first seen and he knew, he just knew, that she'd made her decision.

He hated that look, though. He hated that face with the same intensity that he longed for it. Wordlessly, he pulled her into his arms and, wrapping his wing around them both, he took her back to their promised land. To the place where monsters awaited to fight the rest of their kind.

**-o0o-**

**Tifa Lockhart **lowered the folder she'd been studying for the past three hours. A handful of pages fell out of her slackened hold, scattering onto the table. She cursed and gathered them into a pile which she then tucked inside the beige, standard WRO folder before pushing it to the edge of the working table in her and Sephiroth's room. Leaning forward tiredly on her elbows she rubbed at her eyes before holding her downcast head on her hands.

"Turning enemies into friends, huh?" she murmured gloomily, her eyes tracing the darker lines running through the reddish oak. It had seemed like such a brilliant idea when she'd first conceived it almost three weeks ago, but now she wasn't very sure. Perhaps she'd been too naïve in her thoughts, too idealistic in her goals?

Her eyes jumped back to the closed folder she'd received the day before. Below it where other folders that provided reports of various experiments involving Jenova cells. All of them, without exception, were gruesome in their detail, to the extent that some of the pictures attached had made her stomach twist and bile rise into her throat. With one hand still holding her head, she reached out with the other and tapped the latest folder softly.

"Holy, you were just a child," she whispered, feeling in her eyes the stinging sensation that seemed to have become permanent lately. How? How could they do that to her! Jezbel had done nothing to deserve the fate they'd delivered! "Why…?" Her voice broke and she gave a sharp intake of breath, doing her best to keep from crying. She'd been able to stand it so far, but the more she learned the more unbearable the truth got.

Tifa's jaw clenched, her molars grinding together as she pondered on what she'd read. Though she had had nothing to do with what had been done to Jezebel, she felt disgusted with herself and partly ashamed. How could she have thought that she could, somehow, fix them all? How pretentious of her to wish to understand what all these people had gone through when she had been just so damn ignorant to begin with!

Only a few years ago, she'd thought that losing her Dad to a madman and her city to a fire had been the biggest tragedy that could ever befall anyone! Meanwhile, there had been another young girl who had had it much worse. Not only her, but all the rest of Raphael's warriors as well. They'd all had to deal with things of a magnitude that was going to give her nightmares for a while.

"Damn it!" Her hand fisted and she slapped the folder hard once, twice, three times. The blows were strong enough to leave the side of her hand throbbing with pain, but the tightening in her heart did not ease. Tifa had hoped that she would be able to save the warriors Jenova had gathered around her, but how was she to do that now when she couldn't even keep her own people from deserting her!

She closed her eyes as memories of the times she'd seen and talked to Rie flashed below her lids. She replayed each conversation minutely, unable to help wondering what would have happened had she responded differently or said something else or done something instead of passively standing by in some of those occasions. But no matter how much she imagined a different outcome, nothing changed and at the end of the day Rie was still gone.

She had still betrayed them.

"Was I silly, Ramuh?" she asked out loud, rubbing at an obstinate tear that had begun to fall. Holy, she was stupid. Had it really been childish of her to believe that discarding the prophecy she would be able to stop it from being fulfilled? Had she missed something? Could she have done something differently?

The door opened to admit the figure of Sephiroth Crescent. She saw him taking in her hunched posture and cursed inwardly when his verdant eyes filled with concern.

"I'm alright," she assured him, hoping the lie would be enough to stop him from probing at what was going on in her heart. Wanting to make herself appear more believable, she leaned back on her chair and threw her legs out casually. Sephiroth continued to approach and, by his expression, he was not yet convinced. "How was practice?"

For a while he seemed reluctant to let the other subject slip but Tifa met his gaze squarely and, eventually, he relented by squeezing her shoulder affectionately before pulling a chair close and settling in.

"Nothing would make me happier than to tell you that it went well but," he sighed, flipping his long hair over his shoulder, "the Highwinds' baby kidnapping coupled with Rie's _situation_ has caused a profound lowering in morale. I had assumed that the low-ranking troops wouldn't have been affected, but I've been proven wrong. It has already been two weeks since…Rie's _thing_," he made a hand gesture and she was a bit surprised to find he had also taken her betrayal hard, "and still there's been no progress in that front. "

"The WRO is more like a family than ShinRa ever was. Reeve had suspected that something like this would happen," Tifa reminded, though she understood his frustration.

"I know," he sighed, leaning forward to pull his boots off his feet and stretching. "Her… _departure_ created a ripple effect and I'm afraid that, if we don't stop it soon, it will cause a further breach in our cause."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm sure you've heard, but people who used to be close to Rie, be that because they shared a working space or because they used to train together, have been alienated by their comrades. Just today I had to break three fights between cadets. I had a mind to run them to exhaustion but resources are low and so are able bodied men. I ended up giving them extra duties and a stern warning."

Tifa grimaced. She had indeed heard rumors about people accusing others of being part of a conspiracy, but she'd assumed they would die out on their own before something major happened. And if people were walking around pointing fingers, then what about Genesis? After all, it had been popular news among the WRO personal that Rie had actually managed to land herself a guy, and a famous ex-SOLDIER at that.

"How's Genesis taking things?" she enquired, subconsciously gauging his reaction because she knew he tended to downplay things in order to keep from piling more worries onto her shoulders. Though she appreciated the sentiment, she couldn't afford not knowing what was happening under her nose, especially when it concerned her men.

"Worst than expected," Sephiroth admitted after mulling over his thoughts. He heaved a tired sigh under his breath and brought a hand up to massage his temples as he continued, "He's been brooding and difficult to handle. More so now that people are becoming more fervent and open in their thoughts and opposition about Rie. Cloud, Vincent, Nanaki and I have been taking turns to challenge him in order to keep his mind off of the subject, but some of the bolder cadets had lost their respect for him. I was half-afraid that he would chop someone's head off, but instead of rising to the bait, he'd at least kept relatively civil. He's been turning even our challenges down lately, though, which is a cause of concern." He crossed his arms and struggled for words for a bit, before confiding, "He's unmotivated and, if this continues, I doubt he'll be of any use to us in a fight."

"Don't say that," Tifa chided, even when a big part of her believed this was inevitable. First Cid and now Genesis, Raphael was certainly attacking them in a devastating way. With two perfectly aimed blows, he'd managed to throw her entire organization off balance. She trembled to think what would come next.

"I wish it weren't so but we have to face the facts," he pointed out, though he did so softly, almost as if he himself wished to be convinced otherwise. "Moreover, I'm even more concerned about what will happen if we ever meet Rie in battle. I do not know if Genesis would be capable of-"

"Of course he won't! And that's alright, because we'll capture her and, if needed be, we'll beat some sense into her," she commanded, her voice allowing no arguments in this. They had had people here who'd betrayed them but they had eventually returned to their side, and Tifa was not ready to write off Rie as a lost cause.

Sephiroth raised a hand in a placating manner and Tifa was quick to apologize for her outburst. He brushed her words aside and, perhaps wishing to change the subject to a less testy one, he reached for the top folder in the pile. "Found a new file?"

Tifa nodded, "Jezbel's."

He turned to her and she signaled with a sideway motion of her head that it was okay for him to open it. He flipped the cover over and scanned some of the contents. She was impressed to detect no appalled reaction despite some of the gore the pictures displayed.

After a while, he closed the file and focused his attention back on her. Though he'd studied the reports in silence and his face had betrayed none of his emotions, now that she was looking him straight in the eye, she saw concern surfacing. But it wasn't for Jezbel. It was for _her_ and that made her feel… slightly mad. Why? She wasn't sure, but there it was. It was not her who should be pitied!

"I'm sorry," he broke the silence and Tifa wished he hadn't spoken.

"Why are you apologizing to me for?" she grinded out, crossing her arms defensively and feeling her brow wrinkling despite trying to appear unaffected. She wasn't the one who'd suffered at the hands of those cruel, despicable people! She wanted to yell this to him, but kept quiet instead, biting down on her tongue until she tasted the copper of her blood.

He didn't respond for a while. Instead he seemed to be trying to understand where her sudden frigidness had come from. Tifa made it a point not to look at him. She was well aware that she was acting childish and, truth be told, she wasn't very sure anymore who she was angry at. Him for not pitying Jezebel or herself for doing the same. If she was so mad when finding herself at the receiving end of pity, wouldn't that mean that the Jenova warriors would find themselves likewise upset to be pitied? Especially by people who could never empathize with what they'd gone through…

"You're upset," he pointed out the obvious, completely at a loss.

She turned to him, intent on giving him a piece of her mind, when she noted how very troubled and confused he was! His expression was bordering on panic as he tried, and failed, to understand what he'd said to make her angry in the first place. The look was so out of place in someone normally so confident, that she almost laughed.

"Seph, don't mind me. I was just being stupid," she told him, reaching out to brush at his brow, wishing to wipe away whatever she'd made him feel.

He took her hand and held it in a tight grip, "No."

"What?" her eyebrows rose with surprise.

"I said no," he repeated, his determination unwavering. "I said something that hurt you and I wish to know what it was in order to correct it."

"It was nothing. It was stupid," she tried again, forcing herself to laugh it off. It didn't work.

"It's not stupid if it brought about that reaction," he insisted. "Just tell me, Tifa."

Before she could think of a better way to phrase it, the truth slipped out raw, "I don't want your pity. It makes me feel inadequate as a leader." Her eyes widened and she looked away, afraid that she'd hurt him this time.

His hand on her chin forced her to look back at him. There wasn't the anger she expected, or the pain, there was just a clear understanding, "You are the strongest person I've ever encounter and I apologize if my words gave you the mistaken impression that I pity you. How can I pity someone that was strong enough to even accept me, a person who singlehandedly put you through the worst hell possible?"

Tifa's hand instinctively shot up to hold his in an apologetic gesture. Holy, she was stupid. Thankfully, he took it, weaving his fingers with hers and caressing her hand with his thumb.

"What I meant before," he continued, even though it wasn't needed, "was that I was sorry you had to deal with so many cruel things without being given a break. From out of all of us, you are probably the one that would feel the most for these people, not because you are weak, but because your heart is strong enough to allow itself to touch other people even at the cost of your own happiness. It takes much more courage to try and understand what someone else has gone through in both heart and mind, than it is to simply shut everyone out."

Tifa felt her sight blurring even as a blush rushed to paint her cheeks. Nobody had ever spoken to her like he was doing right now. There was so much awe and respect in his tone that it made her feel humble and proud all at the same time. With a soft smile, he pulled her towards him and she settled on his lap, her hands sliding around his neck, holding onto him. She kissed him for a long time, hoping that would be enough to convey her thanks and her deepest apologies.

"I have a confession to make," Tifa declared, resting her head on his chest as his fingers combed through her long hair.

"What's that?"

"The more I learn about them, the more I wish I hadn't delved into their lives."

He seemed to gather his thoughts in the pause that followed before speaking. "It's understandable, Tifa," he told her gently. "Nobody likes to be confronted by the ugliness of war. It's easier to fight a nameless person than someone who you know a lot about. But this is what makes you special. You are willing to try…"

"I guess…"

"Do you want to talk about it?" he offered and she wondered if that would be a good idea. Sometimes when she was really upset –like the time Barret had taken Denzel and Marlene away, talking seemed to have helped her deal with the situation. It was almost as if all she really needed was to say things out loud in order to get the feeling of frustration out of her system.

"She was six when she was kidnapped and injected with Jenova cells." She began, knowing that, since he'd just read the file, there was no need for her to specify who she was referring to. "By the time she was eight, she had been ganged raped by the scientists that were in charge of her. They kept pounding into her, taking turns for hours on end, getting turned on by her sobs. They-," her hands fisted and she felt again like turning someone into a bloody pulp. "She was just a child, for Holy's sake! As if that hadn't been enough, instead of providing her medical attention, they just kept her under observation to see how long it took her own body to heal by itself! They kept the rape going for years, excusing it by reporting it as part of the experiment. They showered her in mako, increasing the doses, to see if it would help in quickening her recovery."

Tifa felt a tightening in the muscles around her eyes as the photographs she'd seen of Jezbel's tiny, torn form paraded through her head. She'd been whored around the entire department to the point where, somewhere along the way, she'd given in. Tifa knew though -it was something in her stomach that told her so- that Jezbel had never reciprocated the feelings of those pigs. No, what's he'd done she'd done for survival. She'd joined in their game, giving them what they would have otherwise taken by force. In doing so willingly, or as willing as she could become, she'd at least put an end to the gang rape. Having sex with the most powerful scientists had been her only ticket from moving from a group whore to a one-man mistress. That was, perhaps, the only thing that kept her alive long enough to be rescued by Raphael.

Tifa shook her head with unbelief. Rescued! Despite what he'd done to them, Tifa couldn't help grudgingly respecting Raphael for what he'd done. Because no matter if his actions hid an ulterior motive, in the end it was painfully clear that most of his warriors would have died if not for him. Of course, that also meant that they would be loyal to a fault.

"There's no excuse for what was done to them," Sephiroth pointed out in the silence that followed, "but that doesn't mean we can allow them to wreck havoc as they please."

"I know that!" Tifa snapped, frustration hugging her as tight as his arms were. It seems that lately that was the only sentiment that wouldn't leave her no matter what. She was sure that, if she were to die soon, frustration would follow her into the very life stream. "But I can't help feeling mad," she expressed, pulling another file from the pile and flipping it open. The profile picture inside was Oriel's, the title of the experiment was _doll_, "Look at this!"

She leveled the folder so that he would be able to better look at it.

"He was offered up for experimentation by his _own_ mother. He was injected Jenova cells when he was five months old. He was left in complete isolation. When he was four, they left a corpse on the room with him for days, all the while observing what he did from behind a glass, as if he was some kind of exotic animal. Hungry, the baby started munching at the rotting meat. They allowed him to continue eating it until he was so ill he couldn't move. Only then did they provide him with medical attention and eventually showered him with mako to keep him from dying. They kept doing this, allowing him to kill other kids in order to feed, stripping him of his humanity, ridding him of his emotions from a very early age! All because they wanted a weapon capable of killing without emotions getting in the way. His project was a twin of Zariel's and it was just as ruthless!"

"Tifa," he forcefully pulled the folder from her hands and held her tighter, pushing her back to rest on his broad chest. She hadn't realized until now that she was shaking. "That's enough for now. Please, stop."

His voice was soft and it trembled in such a way that it ripped a sob from her throat. Holy, she hated this! She hated all of those cruel people who had done so much harm. How was she supposed to fight them now? How was she supposed to _save_ them? They were victims! She couldn't possibly pass judgment onto them! How could she? Hadn't she herself turned into a terrorist in order to get back at ShinRa for what they had done to her? And that hadn't even been half as bad as what ShinRa had done to _them_!

"What do I do, Sephiroth?" she asked him, feeling as though she was drowning as her despair rose, dancing with her frustration. How was she to save them? How? How! How?

"You can't save them all, Tifa," he repeated in a whisper.

She knew that what he was right. Yet, no matter how much she wished to convince herself of that, she couldn't help feeling that the excuse was not good enough. She wanted to save them. She wanted to lift away their pain. But how was she to do that, when she was just so damn afraid that, if she stepped into their side of the world, she would lose herself within the darkness of it.

In the back of her mind, in a shameful corner, a voice asked if perhaps the only alternative was to kill them as they'd done Zariel. Tifa was trying very hard not to listen. She tightened her hold on her General and her eyes, seeking a distraction, zeroed on the dirt vase Sephiroth had bought some time ago for, she guessed, decoration. It was a strange whim coming from him, but it was also quite refreshing.

Sephiroth had planted a seed in it and Tifa was excited to see what kind of plant he would be interested enough to care for. Already she could see the green stem breaking the through the surface.

Yes, that was it!

Like the plant she needed to preserver. At least for a while, numbness would keep everything at bay. Just for a little while, until she regained the strength to keep moving forward, and break through all the dirt.

**-o0o-**

**Jezebel** held her breath and turned stiff as a bow when the little creature started stirring. She closed her eyes and prayed to Jenova that he would not wake. Her prayers, unsurprisingly, went unanswered when a loud wail pierced the peaceful atmosphere she'd been enjoying.

"Damn it!" She rose from the chair where she'd been reading the novel Oriel had given her for her 'being rescued' anniversary. She had the distinct impression –mainly because it was a romance story—that Sephiel had been the one that had told Oriel to give it to her. She almost smiled at the memory as she reluctantly put the book aside, but the baby's screeching wiped away all her giddiness.

With a dark scowl forming on her face, she approached the squirming baby. Why had she been the one stuck with taking care of him! She hadn't even been part of the mission to retrieve him. Heck, his existence had been blissfully absent from her life and she would have loved it if it had stayed that way!

For crying out loud! Did Raphael think she would make a good mother simply because she was a woman? Did he not know that she hadn't the foggiest idea of how to treat this fragile, annoyingly loud creature! Half the time she was afraid to break him and the other half she kept restraining herself from tossing him out of a second-story window and into the ocean below.

"What do you want?" she asked him, patting his stomach in what she hoped was a calming gesture. Of course, that only seemed to fuel the creature's distress. Why the hell had that stupid couple decided to have a baby in the first place! Did they not know the cruelty of this world? Why would anyone want to bring a life into something that was in the last stages of decay!

"Damn it! Where's Sephiel when you need him?" she grinded out, eyeing the red-faced babe with increasing distrust and disgust. Oh, hell, mucus was running down his nose! Wrinkling her nose, she grabbed a napkin and wiped it off before it could slide inside his mouth. Why did babies have to be so damn bothersome!

Jezbel threw the damp napkin into the wastebasket nearby and grabbed a hold of the cradle. Her hands tightened as she wrecked her brains for an idea. She tried pushing the rocking bed to and fro, but the baby was relentless and her temper was starting to fry. She glanced back at the door longingly and wished, with all her heart, that Sephiel would just come already, like he usually did. But no matter how much she stared and then glared, the doorway remained empty.

Damn it! It was thanks to his care that the little brat was still alive, she was sure. Somehow, she couldn't figure it out, but Sephiel just instinctively knew what he needed, which was weird because she should be the one with maternal instincts, shouldn't she? But no. She was at a complete loss. Taking care of Oriel was a piece of cake in comparison. Oriel needed no care. Her presence by his side was enough to have him content -or as content as a doll could be, which wasn't much. In fact, she wasn't sure he actually regarded her any different from all the rest, but Uriel and Sephiel insisted that he did. She wondered if it was that, more than the fact that she was a woman, what had prompted Raphael to task her with taking care of this nuisance.

Jezbel shook her head and tsked at her own stupid thoughts. Tired of waiting for someone to come and relieve her of this pain, she leaned down to scoop the baby. It took her a while accompanied by chains of curses and some stomping of her feet to figure out how to secure him in her arms without hurting him…much.

The baby squirmed in her arms, shoving her tiny hand into the neck of her blouse. She pulled it out with a huff, "little pervert." Yes. This boy would probably grow up like all the rest of those sick bastards, wanting nothing more than to ride a girl until she was bleeding under him.

_But not all are like that,_ a voice chanted knowingly and Jezbel allowed her expression to soften a little bit at the thought. When Sephiel and her had met in secret right after his recovery, she'd given herself to him in body and soul. It had been the first time in all her life where sex had truly taken on a different meaning. It hadn't been just about physical pleasure, instead it had been about trust within a vulnerable intimacy what had made the experience special. Of course, they'd been careful to keep their rapidly evolving relationship a secret, else they incurred the wrath of their family. Because of that, the encounters they'd shared of this kind had been sporadic and briefer than she'd liked.

The baby shoved his hand into her blouse away as he tried to push her away. She was tempted to let go of him and see how he liked it when he hit the floor, but refrained. Raphael said to keep him alive, but she was sure that keeping him unharmed had also been included in the order.

"Why can't you just tell me what you want?" she hissed, looking around the small room Raphael had provided for the newest member of the family. It was Spartan in decoration, but it seemed that Uriel had gone to the trouble of procuring some toys for the babe. It had certainly been quite a sight when she'd seen the humongous guy coming in with a variety of stuff animals in his arms. Of course, nobody knew if this kid was a temporal member. Raphael had barely talked to them about his plans and, out of respect, -for her part out of indifference- nobody had asked.

Deciding that the best way to keep from snapping was to seek Sephiel's help, she left the room. As she rounded a corner, her ears picked up on part of a conversation. Unconsciously, she lowered her pace straining to hear the words spoken above the baby's cry. Annoyed at her failure, she placed a hand on the baby's mouth to muffle him.

"How does that feel?" a female voice –Azriel's?—asked, the sound coming from one of the rooms ahead. Jezbel frowned when she noticed the door was closed.

"It's incredible."

She froze mid-step when she registered that the answering voice belonged to none other than Sephiel. It didn't matter that his voice had been low, she would know it anywhere! And what was he doing with some other girl behind a closed door, no less! Feeling the sudden urge to just go in and rain on their stupid parade, she stalked ahead and entered the room with a frown on her face and a threat to sent them to hell in her eyes. The fact that she had baby fluids all over her hand, and not just from his mouth, was not helping to lift her mood either.

"Jezbel," Sephiel greeted, his eyes softening as he gazed at her and his lips quirking into a small smile that, to anyone else would not have been very different from a smirk.

She blushed when she took in the scene only to realize that nothing perverted whatsoever had been going on. Sephiel was half-lying on a couch with his mechanic arm hooked up to a machine. Azriel was sitting beside him, looking at the mechanism inside of it through a magnifying glass, various tools spread on a rolling table she'd set nearby. Jezbel kicked herself mentally, ashamed of her previous thoughts. How could she just assume things! Sephiel would never cheat on her! Least of all with someone as unattractive and plain and boring as Azriel!

"W-what are you guys doing?" she asked, trying to make up for her slip in judgment and struggling to come up with a believable excuse for how she'd stormed into the room. Her tone, however, came out rather sheepish and, by Sephiel's expression, she doubted he hadn't noticed her anger. She would just… blame it on the baby! Yes! That was a good one!

"Azriel offered to upgrade my arm, remember?" Sephiel responded quirking an eyebrow slightly. She was glad that rather than being upset, he seemed slightly amused.

As if taking her cue, Azriel –who had ignored her up until now- nodded in agreement before hunching down in order to resume working on the upgrades and calibrations of his arm. "I studied the mechanisms in the claw of Vincent Valentine," Azriel decided to elaborate, switching tools to tweak at the joints between the fingers, "I am positive we can increase his reaction time. Perhaps I can also make the hand lighter as well."

"Ah, I see. Well, that's good," Jezbel mumbled, cradling the baby back and forth a bit awkwardly in her attempt to settle him. Needless to say the baby just seemed to cry even more. When would this thing run out of battery? Sephiel's cat-like eyes sparked with amusement and she scowled at him. _Yes, laugh it off!_

Winking at her, he opened his human arm in an enveloping gesture, "Here, let me."

Jezbel was all too happy to pass the burden onto him. Hell, had they'd been alone, she would have kissed him silly and promised to make it up to him in whatever way he wanted. With a sigh at being relieved of the weight that was the baby, she stepped back. She was soon entranced by him, as she watched him positioning the baby atop his chest, keeping him steady with a hand under his bum. As if by magic, the baby stopped crying soon after and, nuzzling against the older men neck, closed his eyes and hiccupped.

_Of course, you like him, little brat! Anyone would fall asleep when in this man's arms!_ She thought with a hint of jealousy and weird playfulness.

"That's more like it," Sephiel whispered chuckling, his hand gently patting the baby's back. "Don't make Jezbel worry, okay? Boys don't cry."

_Is this what you would look like with our child, Sephiel? _A small voice, barely audible above the erratic beating of her heart, questioned and hoped and even dared to dream.

"Are you feeling ill?" Azriel asked, snapping Jezbel off of her musings.

"Huh?" escaped Jezbel when she noticed that the question had been directed at her. In answer, Azriel's mismatched eyes trailed down to her womb. Her blood drained when she found her hands had unconsciously settled atop it. It wouldn't have been a big deal if this had been the first time, but it wasn't. It worried her. Especially, since she had been waiting in vain for her period to return. She told herself that it was the stress causing it to delay but… what if it wasn't?

"Jezbel, are you okay?" Sephiel's voice held an underlying question that did not escape her. She'd been asking herself that same thing since a week ago. On wobbly feet she gave a step back and, before he could ask more, before they could find out, she turned around and fled the room. This couldn't be happening! They would kill them, surely they would!

Jezbel, fighting the panic that was rising inside of her, decided that, for now, the best thing would be for her to be alone. Yes. She just needed to be alone and think things through.

"It's just the stress," she insisted, and how she wished she could believe it…

**-o0o-**

**Yuffie Kisurugi **shook her head reproachfully when she noticed that, once again, Reeve had made himself scarce in the cafeteria. Grumpily, she took a tray and proceeded to get in line. She'll just get him something and bring it over to his office, like she'd been doing for the past few days. Yuffi was well aware that her chiding at not coming out of the office at least to eat was canceled by her actions of bringing him food. After all, Reeve needed to be seen amongst his people! He needed to show them who was boss! And yet, she couldn't bring herself to drag him out, least of all when he turned those hurt, dark eyes of his on her!

"Aaarrgh, that man!" she hissed under her breath. Gawd, he was impossible sometimes!

The noise around her suddenly turned into hushed conversations. Confused by the tension now permeating the atmosphere, she gazed around in search for the cause. She glared when she found it. A man –No! _The_ man who'd been slandering Rie and all those who had been close to her –including her precious Reeve!—had just stepped into the cafeteria with one of his loyal goons. As he was passing her by, he smirked her way before snorting something to his companion which made them both snicker.

Now, had Yuffie been anyone else like say Aerith or Nanaki, she would have let that slide and continued on her merry way. But she wasn't them. She was none other than the courageous rose of Wutai and she would be damn if some nameless, shitless bastard was going to play all high and mighty and pretend he was better than she was. Where was he when Sephiroth –eerr…Jenova had called meteor down upon friggin' Gaia, anyways? Probably cowering in some basement, crying his little eyes out!

"Hey, asshole!" She called with a cocky smirk of her own. The men stopped in their tracks and the tallest slowly –he was probably trying to act cool—turned around to face her. Her lips broke into a smile when she noticed that, hard as he was trying to remain composed, his face was flushed with outrage.

"What did you call me?" his voice was strained, his body tensed and poised for a fight. Yuffie silently welcomed the challenge. She needed to let out some steam and breaking a bone or two while teaching someone a lesson seemed like the perfect excuse.

"Listen, _asshole_," she enunciated the word slowly, so that there would be no mistaking her intention. "You've got something to say, grow some balls and say it to my face. Otherwise," she let the tray down on a nearby table, as she slowly worked her way towards him, "crawl back inside the hole you came from and clear the field for the grownups."

The man looked around, as if trying to find support from within the now silent crowd. But really, who in their right mind would publicly cross one of the heroes of Gaia? Yuffie folded her arms and waited, one of her hands close to a hidden kunai, just in case he brought out a gun or something.

The guy locked his jaw and returned his attention to her. He'd found no support, not even from his goon, who had done the brilliant thing and had backed away. Now it was only her and him within the empty circle created by the crowd. Yuffie wanted him to attack so that she could break that mouth of his which he seemed to like to run like a gossiping' grandma without getting into a shitload of trouble. After all, it would be self-defense, right?

"Fine!" he said between clenched teeth. He was trapped and, if only to save face, he was willing to put his neck on the line.

_Works for me,_ Yuffie continued to smirk as she waited for whatever comeback he'd prepared.

"This is what happens when we have a fuckin' woman as a leader!" he snarled, his voice growing and with it, his conviction. "Women think with their heart and that is going to destroy us! Had she been a man, she would have seen that fuckin' bitch was a spy from the get go." He swept the crowd, his cheeks flushed with excitement at finally making his big speech. "I say we toss that good for nothing barmaid out of the organization and put an apt m-"

He didn't get to finish. Yuffie had had enough. Acting on pure instinct, she'd punched the man's jaw with all her strength, sending him crashing to the floor. He propped himself on an elbow and spat blood, phlegm and a half a tooth out. He looked disoriented for a bit, but soon enough there was anger in his eyes. With a roar, he jumped to his feet and came at her with almost palpable murder intent.

Had he slandered her or even Rie, Yuffie would have let him off easy with a broken nose or a bruise rib. But how dare he speak of Tifa in that manner! No matter the rules, she could not permit him to leave this room unharmed. She was going to beat him to a bloody pulp and force him to eat his words or else he'll end up getting his nutrients through a fuckin' tube.

Effortlessly, Yuffie sidestepped his barreling form and elbowed him on the back of his shoulder, sending him to the ground. He hit his face hard and, when he pushed himself to his feet, there was blood coming out of his twisted nose. He broke into a trot and Yuffie, spiraling on the ground with her leg outstretched, swept him off his feet. She stepped back and waited to see what he did next. He cursed and when he rushed at her and tried to punch her, she took a hold of his wrist, spun inwards so that her back was presented to his chest, and with a swift motion of her hand, pushed his elbow not out but in. The joint cracked as it got disconnected, the man's surprised yelp making her ear ring.

"Are you going to take what you said back?" she asked him calmly, as she stepped away while he clutched as his elbow, trying to keep his arm from moving too much. The paleness of his face signaled it hurt. Yuffie hoped it did.

His answer, though, was a roar followed by another clumsy attempt at a punch, this time with his left hand. She took hold of his wrist and, instead of spinning inwards, she spun outwards twisting his arm behind his back.

"I'll give you one more chance," she threatened.

When the man maintained his stubborn silence, she grabbed his fingers with her other hand and pushed down and out until his wrist cracked. It was a sickening sound that tore a yell from his throat. Unfortunately, it also earned the attention of a passing Barret. The crowd parted to let him through and Yuffie glared at him, telling him not to meddle. But Barret was not easily frightened, least of all by someone half his age, size and height.

"Was' goin' on 'ere?" he demanded in that booming tone that would make lesser people quiver on their feet.

"This _trash_ is delusional enough to think he would be more apt to lead us than Tifa, that's what's going on!" Yuffie responded when no one else seemed inclined to speak up, not even the man she'd broken.

"That true?" Barret asked him, his dark eyes becoming slits. Nobody messed with the human machinegun and nobody lied to him if they knew what was best. "Ya think ya better than Teef?"

"I…I… i-it was a mistake," the man was shaking so bad that Yuffie was sure that if she were to let go of him, he would sink to the ground. Curious to see if she was right, she did and, sure enough, he landed on his knees and even went as far as to bend down until his forehead was pressed on the ground, "I'm sorry! I don't know what I was talkin' about, I'm sorry!"

"Damn right you don't!" Yuffie snarled, placing her hands on her waist and glaring down at the little worm. _Nobody talks shit about Teef and leaves unscathed!_

"Report to Sephiroth Crescent for ya punishment," Barret commanded, "If ya don't think ya're man enough to serve with the WRO under its new leadership, then I sugges' ya go back to hide behind yar mother's skirts." He glared at the crowd, "that goes for ya'll!"

The man hurried out and the crowd soon went back to their business. Barret approached Yuffie, his expression still stern, and pointed at her nose, "Ya go to Reeve! Tell 'im what happened and receive a proper punishment! We can't 'ave even us fightin' our own people, ya brat!"

"Fine!" Yuffie huffed, stalking past him and retaking her tray, "Relax, old man, I'll do it!" She said when she saw him opening his mouth probably to scold her some more, "I'll just get us some food first!"

He nodded curtly his acceptance before leaving her be. Still mad, she loaded two plates of food, grabbed some bottles of juice and made her way out of the cafeteria and towards the elevator. She balanced the tray on a hip and pressed the button for the fourth floor. When she was finally outside his office she hesitated. Damn, would he be mad when he learned that she'd gotten into a fight? What had she been thinking?

She was well aware that he'd been stressed out lately by the fights breaking within the WRO's ranks. Now, she had started one herself! Even when knowing that he had been hoping AVALANCHE would not get involved in any of these things! Hell, he'd been almost waiting to hear of Genesis killing someone!

_Well, I just broke one bone and dislocated a joint… probably broke his mouth and nose, possibly injured his jaw… _She grimaced and hit her forehead with the door. She was so stupid!

She stayed like that for a while, leaning her entire weight on the closed steel, rehearsing what she would say when suddenly the door opened and, not having expected that, she pitched forward with tray and all. Thankfully, Reeve had been standing just on the other side and had managed to stop her before lilting the pristine carpet with food. The drinks did fall, but the bottles were closed.

"Ah, there you are," he said, holding her by the arms until she regained her balanced. "What were you doing?"

She frowned. He'd been expecting her? Her eyes widened. Shit, he knew! He knew she'd just gotten into a fight, didn't he? How the hell did he know? Who was the bastard that told him! She was gonna kill him!

"Yuffie, is there something you want to tell me?" he asked with a frown.

She quickly pushed the tray onto his hands and bowed, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to do it!"

Gawd, she was sounding just like that idiot downstairs!

She heard him putting the tray down atop the file cabinets nearby before his hands came back to rest on her shoulders, "Yuffie, what's going on? What happened?"

"Well, he was talking shit—"

"Don't curse, Yuffie," he interjected.

"-about Tifa! So I couldn't stand it and one thing led to the other and-"

"Wait what?" he didn't seem very pleased.

"It was only some minor injuries," she excused, her eyes pleading for him to have mercy. "Just one small, little bone broken."

Reeve's appalled expression was swiftly replaced by confusion which later morphed into realization. "Ah, a fight then."

Yuffie frowned, "Of course! What did you think?"

The man brushed away her question with a wave and, taking the tray, went back to his desk. Yuffie followed him with a frown of her own. What did this mean? He didn't know about the fight?

"If you didn't know about the fight," she began, sitting down opposite him after having retrieved the juices from the floor, "then what did you mean by 'there you are'?"

Reeve did not answer and instead poured all of his attention onto his plate, "So about this fight…?"

"Wait a second," Yuffie's brain was just starting to move its gears. "You were expecting me! You were waiting for me, weren't you?"

Reeve quickly placed a hand on his mouth, hiding part of his face from view. But the rose of Wutai had the eyes of a hawk and… he was blushing? He was blushing! She felt like jumping, pointing at his face and announcing to the world that Reeve actually _wanted_ to have lunch with her after all, but knew that if she did that she would probably get herself kicked out of his office.

"You are so annoying," Reeve sighed.

Yuffie leaned forward, across the desk so that their faces were pretty close. She wanted to see his blush! She really did. So she said playfully, "But you like that, don't ya?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," he responded simply, honestly.

To her surprise, before the words fully registered, he suddenly leaned forward, closing the small gap separating them. Before she knew it, his lips were pressed to hers. They were softer than they'd looked and much more… well, _yummier_! When he moved back, though, she realized belatedly that her eyes were still as wide as saucers and her cheeks were probably painted with twice the shade of red.

Damn him! How had he been able to turn the table on her so easily! Wow, she was a little lightheaded and the room was warm and all she could think about was that softness and-

"That out of the way, about that fight…?" he asked, leaning back, intent on starting his meal.

Yuffie glared. Damn him, he was already moving to the food when all she wanted was to kiss him again! "_How_ do you do that?"

**-o0o-**

**Uriel's** hands were trembling slightly beyond his control as he reached out to touch the inanimate body lying on the table. He placed his hand atop his chest, searching for a pulse. The body was still warm but the life had gone.

"He's dead," he informed, a tightening in his chest making tears well in his eyes. How strange, that this little one whom he'd recently met was already creating such a void in his life. It was pain what made his heart twist, wasn't it?

Raphael nodded, his expression one of brief surprise before he became pensive. He turned to the third person in the room and studied her for a while. Uriel could barely look at her. Was she really this heartless? She didn't seem at all touched by the loss of this innocent.

"You took it all out?" his brother asked eventually. In answer, Azriel showed him a small vase halfway filled with liquid. She topped it with a lid and offered it to Raphael. The man took it, looking at the inky liquid inside. "And the boy had to die?"

Azriel seemed indifferent, "You wanted it all out. I did as ordered."

"I see," Raphael said, turning around to leave, "Well that's a shame. Do give him a proper burial… he was an innocent after all."

Uriel couldn't help feeling as though the world had just become a much darker place. He had a tender spot for children –given he had had some of his own, after all- and, had he had it his way, this one would not have died. Azriel started cleaning the utensils she had used, her eyes lifeless, her expression stoic throughout the entire process.

"You are heartless, you know," Uriel told her, wishing he was allowed to slap her across that face of hers. For him it was the greatest sin to kill a child, which was why he'd tortured and killed in the most gruesome way possible the party that had invaded his home in the middle of the night and, without qualms, killed his family. And it was all because they had wanted to kidnap him! Of course, once his precious children and wife had been killed, and he'd destroyed those who had bloodied their hands, he'd been captured. What use was fighting when he'd been stripped from his reason for living?

Azriel stopped and regarded him in silence before saying, "An echo has no use for a heart." She shrugged, "If you have so much care for this corpse, then why don't you return it to its parents. If there is to be a burial, wouldn't it be less troublesome for them to do it?"

"How cruel, Azriel," he whispered.

"Don't worry. If not, I'll just bury him myself." She shrugged again in response, going back to her job.

Uriel's eyes trailed away and ended up back upon the pale child. He was already turning cold under his touch, much like his own children had done. But the more he thought about that thoughtless advice, the more it started to make sense in a weird kind of way. Perhaps it _would_ be less cruel to give them back the corpse rather than to leave them wondering what had happened?

"What is this?" he asked, when he noticed a number written in marker on the inner part of the baby's arm. The numbers were small, and they had a strange symbol before them.

"Measurement," she responded casually, "I was afraid I would forget what dose of mako I needed to use."

"It didn't keep him alive, though."

"No," she agreed, "but it kept it alive long enough to extract what was needed from its body."

"You are cruel," he insisted, grabbing the baby's corpse, feeling the tears stinging his eyes. He was so little. His life had just begun. Did it truly had to end like this?

"You've said that already. She turned to face him, "So, what do we do with it?"

He hated that she kept calling him it, as though he was a _thing_. He didn't want her anywhere near him, no matter that he was already dead. "I will take him back to his parents."

"Will Raphael be okay with that?"

Uriel shrugged. He didn't know. But what harm could it do? The baby was already dead. In honor of that pure life that had to be sacrificed, he would chance his brother's anger. With that, he grabbed a blanket, wrapped the baby in it, before he pulled out his silver wing and disappeared.

**To be continued…**

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**AN: **Wow! I had fun writing this chapter! Anyhow, the final battle is drawing near! Please **review** and let me know what you think so far if you get the chance!

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**Fanart:** I've included two more drawings for this fic. You can use the links below (get rid of the spaces) or go to my profile and you'll see them there!

Rie version 02: http : / / .com /art / Rie-OneWingedAngels-220006664

Jenova: http : / / .com /art / OWA-Jenova-239070344?q=gallery%3Agigi-fenixphoenix&qo=0


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